


Road to Redemption

by OhDontDeceiveMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst, Changing POVs, Horcrux Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-06 13:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhDontDeceiveMe/pseuds/OhDontDeceiveMe
Summary: It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to save his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters that will be used in this fic. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. This will only be posted here on the first chapter, but applies to all following chapters.

The room where they sat was cold and dimly lit. Silence was hanging in the air while the Dark Lord stared hard into the eyes of Severus Snape.

“Tonight. At nightfall.” He hissed the words slowly in a calculating manner. “Why am I hearing of this just now?”

“My Lord, had I come by this information sooner I would have brought it to you. As it stands, we are lucky to have any notice of the boy’s removal at all.” Snape replied in a measured voice, maintaining his eye contact with the snake-like man across the table.

“Very well.” Voldemort replied. He reached down to stroke Nagini with his long, skeletal fingers. “Let us prepare.”

 

OooOooO

 

“I am disappointed.” Voldemort said softly to the room. His cold gaze scanned the room, but no eyes rose to meet his. “Yet again, Harry Potter, a mere boy, eludes me. However, safe as he may be at the moment, he has nowhere else to go. If he attempts to leave that Burrow we will undoubtedly know it. Still, I have no intention of simply waiting for him to leave.” He turned to his right. “Severus, when will the wedding be?”

Severus Snape yet again looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord and replied in his signature monotone, “My Lord, I believe the wedding will take place in 3 weeks’ time. They are sure to take precautions against the possibility of an attack. However, with the proper planning, we will surely be able to break through them.”

Voldemort looked mildly pleased at his words. “Thank you, Severus, you are a faithful servant.”

Snape bowed his head in reply to the words of the Dark Lord. All eyes in the room watched this exchange, apprehensive at what was to come next. They had failed in their previous mission, and they knew failure equated punishment.

“My friends.” Voldemort said, “Do not look so disheartened. I, too, was unsuccessful in capturing the boy.”

The tension in the room ebbed slightly, but no one dared say a word. Voldemort turned slowly and walked towards the entrance of the room. At the door, a woman was floating on her back in the air. Her hands and feet were bound with ropes, and a cloth was tied tightly over her mouth. She gazed out at the room with wide eyes. Beside her, Wormtail’s wand was held out, keeping her suspended in the air. He glanced up at his master’s approach, but quickly returned his eyes to the floor.

“Severus, I believe you know our guest tonight. And, ah yes, Draco, perhaps you do as well. But of course, you never would have lowered yourself to the study of muggles” Voldemort jeered. All eyes in the room turned to Draco who fought the urge to shrink in his chair. He sat up and looked at the woman, flicked his eyes to the Dark Lord, and returned them to the table.

“No, My Lord.”

The woman started moving towards the table, and soon was hovering above the center. Her body flipped, and now she was hanging upside down, looking straight at Draco Malfoy. Her eyes pleaded for him to say something, anything, to intervene on her behalf. Draco could not meet her eyes.

Ever since his mission had failed, and Voldemort had learned how Draco had acted as such a coward, he had been tormenting Draco relentlessly as punishment. Initially, it was the cruciatus curse, but Voldemort had soon decided psychological torment was more fitting.

“Yes, my friends, here we have the Muggle Studies professor from Hogwarts. She claims muggles to be much the same as you and me, poisoning the minds of the young students.” Snickers ran across the table, along with whispered insults and glares. Voldemort continued, “Such crimes against our magical prowess cannot go unpunished. Draco, tonight, I would like you to do us the honor of punishing our dear guest.” The mirth in Voldemort’s voice at these words was unmistakable and laughter rang out in the room at his words. Draco blanched.

“What would you like for tonight’s punishment, my Lord?” Draco’s voice came out strangled, causing more laughter throughout the room. His mother put her hand over his and squeezed lightly, but too soon she let go. Despite his efforts to control his thoughts, he couldn’t suppress them. ‘Please, don’t make me kill her.’ As soon as the words ran through his head, he looked up into the gleaming red eyes of the Dark Lord. Voldemort’s sinister smile stretched slightly further across his face, and Draco felt a dead weight settle in his stomach.

“Poisoning the minds of young children is a most serious offense. I see no reason she should be spared any mercy.” Voldemort’s eyes continued to bore into Draco’s, until the grey eyes finally broke the connection.

Draco was shaking. The implications behind the Dark Lord’s words were clear. Kill her. Draco knew he couldn’t do it, and Voldemort knew it as well. But, what would be his punishment for neglecting to fulfill his task yet again? He glanced over to Snape, pleading with his eyes, but Snape’s black eyes were completely empty. Whispers ran through the room. He looked at his father, who was staring hard at the table, hands gripped tightly on his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his mother. Slowly, he stood up and raised his wand to the hovering woman, determined not to look in her eyes.

“Come now, Draco. Surely you understand why she deserves this punishment.” Voldemort said. His real message rang in Draco’s head. _You are the one being punished. You know you deserve this. And I am waiting for you to fail_.

Draco tightened his grip on his wand. He could feel the entire room looking at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his Aunt Bellatrix sitting on the edge of her seat, a smirk on her face, in anticipation. Draco could also feel the eyes of the woman, but he knew if he looked back, he would fail. Long seconds passed; the air thick was anticipation. The pull of the woman’s eyes grew stronger, and Draco’s resolution dissolved as he met her gaze. For another second, the world stopped, his breath caught, and before he realized what he was doing, he lowered his wand.

The room was silent.

“Foolish boy.” Voldemort’s hiss broke the silence. “You think your compassion will save her? _Avada Kedavra_!” The woman’s body fell on the table. Voldemort hissed to his snake, which proceeded to slither up to the body. “You are a coward, Draco, and a fool. _Crucio_!”

Draco’s body seized up, it was pain beyond pain, and his scream filled the room. It could have been seconds that his body was under the curse. It could have been hours. He didn’t know.

“If you cannot be of use to me, then tell me, why should I keep you? _Crucio_!”

Draco had not recovered from his first attack, when once again his body was pushed past the limits of pain. His vision was fading, and blood rushed in his ears. He thought he heard someone screaming, a woman, but he wasn’t sure. The attack continued, and Draco’s vision started fading. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He lay still on the floor. Someone was talking, but the words were jumbled, like a pillow had been placed over his ears. Draco began to push his body up, but as soon as he moved the curse hit him again. He heard another scream, it seemed far away. It didn’t matter anyway, everything was pain, and nothing would stop it. In the pain, his thoughts faded, and the world became black.

Voldemort stared at the still form of Draco Malfoy laying on the floor. “How utterly useless.” He whispered. “I believe…we are finished with him.” He raised his wand one final time, but before the spell could leave his lips, a disturbance broke the silence in the room.

Narcissa Malfoy screamed, her face shining with tears, as she lunged toward Voldemort. Her husband tried, unsuccessfully, to stop her. Bellatrix hissed “Cissy, stop.” but her sister took no heed. She fired a spell, but it was easily deflected. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed as he turned his wand on the woman. With this action, Lucius Malfoy, too, stood and raised his wand to defend his wife.

“CISSY! How dare you-“ Bellatrix cried, but she was cut short when the Dark Lord turned his icy stare on her.

“Now, now, Bella. While their actions may be undesirable, they are certainly understandable.” Voldemort took a step closer to the Malfoys, wand held almost lazily in his hand, when he heard the sound of Draco stirring feebly on the floor behind him.

“ _Crucio_!” Voldemort cried once more. Draco’s body twisted horribly in the air before falling down limp once more. Narcissa gave a dry sob, and fell back in her chair. “Ah yes, our dearest Draco. I had almost forgotten. It almost seems a pity, and a waste. But I have no use for such cowardice.”

Severus Snape’s eyes flickered between the lifeless form of the youngest Malfoy, the faint, desperate eyes of Narcissa, and the cold red eyes of the Dark Lord who had lifted his wand to Draco yet again. “My Lord.” He all but whispered the words. Before Voldemort had a chance to respond, Snape continued, “Perhaps it would be wise to remove this…boy…from the room. You can deal with his parents accordingly, while I attend to him. You see, I too am tired of tolerating his shortcomings. It would be no burden, I assure you.”

Voldemort seemed to consider this option. He stared hard into the eyes of Severus Snape, while Snape stared back unblinking and seemingly emotionless. “Very well,” Voldemort conceded. “Remove him from my presence. I am sick of looking at his disgrace.” He turned to face the rest of the room, and gestured out his arm. “The remainder of you are dismissed. I wish to speak with our…hosts.” The room quickly emptied, and Voldemort turned slowly to look at the Malfoys with murder in his eyes. Snape lifted Draco up with his wand and quickly exited the room without looking back.

When he was safely out of the room he took Draco’s wand from his robes and cast a silencing charm. He grabbed an object from the nearest table, and murmured “Portus.” He slipped Draco’s wand back in his robes, and began to count down from 10…9…8…

 _Where he goes, I hope he will be safe. But anywhere this boy goes is safer than here_.

3…2…

He shoved the portkey into Draco’s hands, and watched as he disappeared from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to Dave his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

Harry Potter was sitting on an uncomfortable cot in Ron’s room. Ron, of course, was snoring rather loudly in the bed next to him, but Harry couldn’t sleep. His mind was still reeling from all the events of the day prior, and his heart was aching with the losses that had occurred. Mad-Eye and Hedwig. He pulled his knees up a little closer to his chest, resting his forehead against them. Ron and Hermione were right, though, it was stupid of him to think he would be able to destroy the Horcruxes on his own. His thoughts switched to Ollivander, and he wondered what Voldemort wanted him for.

A few minutes passed while Harry sat, thinking, and listening to Ron’s rhythmic snoring. His scar kept prickling uncomfortably, and a knot of worry was settling in his stomach. He sat up straight when an alarm sounded, signaling a threat to the wards surrounding the Burrow.

“Ron, get up, now!” Harry shouted as he sprang out of his cot, grabbed his wand, and headed toward the door. Ron shot out of bed and looked around groggily for a few seconds before following at his heels. Harry ran down the stairs of the Burrow and noticed everyone else doing the same until they were all standing in the living room, listening intently for any sign of another attempted entrance through the Burrow’s wards.

After 30 seconds, Arthur spoke up. “I think we should go out and see what is happening. If they are here I do not want to be found cowering in my home.” There was a murmur of agreement, and everyone followed Arthur to the door. “No, Ginny, you stay here with George. Molly, stay with them. I want to make sure you are safe.” Ginny looked ready to argue, but stopped when she saw the severity of her father’s gaze.

Outside, everything was very quiet, eerily quiet. It was also dark, and Harry couldn’t see more than a few meters in front of him. He cursed his age, and not being able to use any magic to cut through the darkness. Of course, if they were going to be attacked, his age would no longer matter.

Hermione, standing to his left, had another idea. “ _Homenum Revelio_ ” she said. Everyone stopped to look at her. After a few seconds she pointed ahead and slightly to the right. “Up there, there’s someone. It’s just one person, just outside the wards.”

Everyone followed as Hermione led the way to the edge of the wards. “Careful!” Arthur whispered. “Be sure to stay inside. We don’t know who else could be monitoring the area.”

Hermione nodded. “ _Lumos maxima_ ” she said softly, pointing her wand out in front of her. Slowly, a figure on the ground came into focus. A figure that was unmistakably an unconscious Draco Malfoy.

Harry stood, shocked, and unsure what to do. What was _Malfoy_ doing here? He felt sure that this must be a trap to lure them outside of the wards. To his right, he heard Ron voice a similar concern.

“Malfoy? This has to be a trick. But those Death Eaters must be pretty thick if they think we’d risk ourselves for Malfoy.”

“I would tend to agree with you, Ron.” said Arthur coming up beside them. “Which leads me to believe this may not be a trap.”

Harry thought on that for a second, and looked at Malfoy more closely. His clothes were more worn than Harry has ever seen. His frame was thin, and his pale skin was, if possible, even paler than usual. He also had dark circles under his eyes, a sure sign of many sleepless nights. Harry’s eyes grazed Malfoy head to toe, his unconscious form calling to mind one other time he had seen the boy lying in a similar state. This time, though, there was no noticeable blood. Harry repressed a shudder, and closed his eyes to briefly clear his mind of the unwelcome image. When he opened them, they caught on the object held loosely in Malfoy’s hands.

“What’s that he’s holding?” Harry asked the group.

Arthur moved forward as far as he dared and crouched down low. “Without inspecting it more closely, I can’t be sure. It seems to be some sort of decorative object perhaps. But why would he be holding…”

“A portkey.” Hermione interrupted, coming to Arthur’s side. “I mean, it could be a portkey. But it must be! He is the only other human around us, I’m sure of it. And in this state he obviously didn’t apparate himself here. Someone sent him and the wards stopped him from getting any closer to the house.”

Harry looked at Hermione, and back at Malfoy. It did make sense, of course. But who would send him here? Why would anyone send _Malfoy_ here? Unless they thought that he was in danger, and hoped the Order could help. When Harry spoke a moment later, he surprised even himself. “We have to help him.”

“Harry,” Ron said, sounding wary. “Harry, he’s a Death Eater. Think of everything he did last year alone! He cursed Katie, poisoned _me_ , basically killed Dum-“

“I know, Ron. I know. It’s just, we can’t leave him out here like this.” Harry said, trying to sound confident, but feeling thoroughly unsure of himself. Try as he might, though, the image of Malfoy on the floor of the bathroom wouldn’t leave his mind. Yes, he _hated_ Malfoy, but he still didn’t wish him dead.

“I agree with you, Harry.” Arthur said glancing back. Ron scowled, but did not voice his opposition. “Someone needs to go let Molly and the others know what we found. I’m sure they are all very worried.”

“We’ll go.” Bill volunteered. He glanced at Fleur and took her hand as they headed back towards the Burrow.

“Good. Now, we need to determine the safest way to bring the boy inside the wards. Obviously taking them all down is not an option.” Arthur said giving Harry a significant look. “We could modify them, but that would take quite a bit of time, and I’m not sure how much time he has in this condition.”

“Dad, I think you could apparate him in.” Fred suggested. “This house is yours, so you should be able to bring someone through the wards with you, even if they wouldn’t normally be permitted.”

“Yes.” said Hermione, managing to look both relieved and incredibly worried at the same time. “Yes, I believe that would work.” 

Harry furrowed his brows. He didn’t much like the plan. Well, really, he didn’t like much about this whole situation. But he conceded that this would be the easiest way to get Malfoy through the wards.

“Alright, Dad. You get him. We’ll guard you.” Ron said, holding his wand out. Arthur gave a small smile to his youngest son, and nodded to the group before turning and walking purposefully out of the wards. He crouched down next to Malfoy, and his face quickly morphed into deep concern.

“Oh dear.” He muttered. It looked as though he were about to give Malfoy a full examination there in the open when Ron whispered sharply.

“Dad, hurry. Mum can look at him inside.” Arthur nodded again and gathered Malfoy in his arms. The motion looked too effortless to Harry, and he wondered if perhaps Mr. Weasley was stronger than he looked. Or perhaps Malfoy was in worse shape than they realized.

“Ok you lot, head back, I’ll take him directly to the den.” Arthur said. He turned sharply and with a loud _crack_ he disapparated. Not two seconds later, another loud crack was heard inside the house.

“Let’s go.” Harry said, and he turned and jogged back towards the Burrow, Ron and Hermione at his heels.

OooOooO

Draco was on something moderately soft and comfortable. A bed perhaps. Or a sofa. He supposed it didn’t really matter. What did matter was the incredible pounding going on in his head. And the rest of his body, for that matter. Especially his leg. What had happened? Where was he and why did everything hurt? Draco realized he couldn’t move. Even though his body hurt like someone dropped a hippogriff on him, he couldn’t feel it enough to move. He started to panic slightly, but told himself that it would help nothing. Instead, he tried to concentrate on his surroundings. He was on a sofa. Yes, it was definitely a sofa. And he wasn’t in Malfoy Manor. It was much too comfortable (if he were honest with himself) to be in the Manor. And this room was much too bright. The Manor was never bright anymore. If only his head would stop pounding so he could think. He concentrated on his breathing, but as soon as he did he noticed a sharp pain in his chest. _Bloody fuck._ He felt his body flinch in reaction to the sudden pain. Wait, did he hear something? Yes, someone was talking, but the pounding in his head and rushing in his ears was muffling the sound.

“…move. I swear I saw him move.”

“D’you think he’s waking up?”

“Oh, maybe he’s going to have a seizure!”

“There, he just twitched again. His arms and stuff.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. I mean, look at him.”

_Thud_

“What? He looks like hell.”

“Mrs. Weasley, should we do something?”

 _Weasley?_ Draco thought. What is a Weasley doing here? Or, what am I doing near a Weasley? And there’s something familiar about that voice. He heard some distant shuffling sounds near him. It wasn’t until a hand touched his arm that his eyes finally managed to snap open, and with them, a sudden awareness of his situation. His mouth went dry and his mind was racing. He looked around frantically, but soon realized he had been moved from his previous surroundings. Then, his eyes landed on Potter standing off to his right. He looked confused and maybe…concerned? Draco tensed and narrowed his eyes, and he saw Potter mirror his actions.

“Dear.” a soft voice said. He turned towards it and looked at the woman for a second. He took is her greying red hair, worn clothes, and admittedly kind face. Currently, though, her face was knitted was concern and apprehension, and possibly even fear. He recognized this woman. The wife of that blood-traitor Weasley and mother to their insufferable, idiotic children. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “Do you remember what happened?” Draco continued to stare at her and offered no answer. Mrs. Weasley pressed on. “You arrived here a few minutes ago in quite a state. We’ve tended to some of your major injuries, but to treat you fully we must know what happened.” Draco remained silent. They were treating him?

“Perhaps he doesn’t remember…” Hermione began softly.

“Perhaps it’s none of your business, mudblood.” Draco spat at Granger. His voice came out rough, and the use of it burned his throat. Mrs. Weasley let out a small gasp and withdrew her hand. Draco gave a satisfied smirk, but Weasley stepped forward.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that you-“

“Ron, don’t. It doesn’t matter.” Granger said in a clipped tone. She raised her head and looked down at Draco with disdain. Draco sneered. He realized he was still laying down so he attempted to sit himself up. He intended to leave this hell-hole as soon as he was able. His body gave another involuntary twitch at his efforts, and his ribs screamed in protest. Outwardly, he refused to show any sign of pain or weakness.

“Malfoy, don’t be a prat. You showed up unconscious on the lawn in the middle of the night with a broken leg and broken ribs, clutching a portkey. What happened to you? Who sent you here? What do you remember?” Potter was practically shouting by the time he had finished talking. He had approached Draco and, Draco assumed, was trying to look threatening.

“Harry, don’t crowd him. You’re asking too many questions.” Granger said. She was still holding her chin up, and pointedly looking away from Draco. Draco snorted.

“I’ve had enough of this. Where’s my wand? I’m getting out of here.” Draco said. He tried to stand up, but found that his left leg would not support his weight and he started shaking terribly. His body twitched again, and he really wished it would stop doing that. He noticed Potter looking at him appraisingly.

“You were hit with Cruciatus.” Potter stated. Draco’s body twitched again, as if confirming Potter’s statement. Potter stood up straight and turned around. “That’s why he keeps twitching. It can be an after-effect of the curse. His broken bones could either have been from the curse itself, or a result from hitting the floor when the curse was lifted.” The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably as Potter finished speaking.

Merlin, how would Potter know about the effects of the Cruciatus curse? He would have expected it from that know-it-all mudblood, but not from Potter. Draco glared up at Potter. “As I’ve said, it’s no business of yours. Now, where is my wand? I’m leaving.”

Potter spun around. “What, so you can run back to the rest of the Death Eaters? You were half dead when you showed up. I don’t think they want you anymore.” Potter’s voice was low and mocking. He smirked and turned away.

Draco saw the elder Weasley round the corner and enter the room. “Harry, calm down. Draco…” Draco’s eyes narrowed at the use of his given name. “We have your wand and it is being kept safe. However, I am afraid you are in no state to leave. Furthermore, we are not allowing it. You are being warded into this house. We are working on preparing somewhere for you to sleep.”

Draco tried to stand once more, and with the assistance of the sofa arm, he succeeded. He was about to protest, but he was cut off by a much softer voice.

“Draco, dear. We can’t, or rather we won’t, force you to tell us what happened. At least not right now, while you are recovering.” Draco heard Weasley scoff at these words. “You cannot leave in this state. You are here now and we intend to keep you safe.” Mrs. Weasley finished speaking and looked at him worriedly.

The effort to remain standing proved to be too much. His body was shaking badly as he sank back down on the sofa. As much as he hated to admit it, and he never would aloud, they were right. He couldn’t leave yet. But he would be damned to stay any longer than he had to after his body had healed. It was with great composure that he managed the next few words. “Where will I be sleeping then?”

The others in the room glanced nervously at each other, which Draco found immensely satisfying. None of them would want to share a room with him, and that was all the better. He also knew the Weasleys were much too poor to possibly have any extra rooms. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to stay.

“Give us a moment.” Mrs. Weasley said, and the group left him in the room alone.

When Draco was left alone in the room he let out a long breath and took a moment to examine his body. He gently touched his ribs, and had to hold his mouth closed to stop the gasp of pain. Trying again, he ran his hand over them. They were no longer broken, but still very sore. He moved on to his left leg, which Potter had said was broken when he arrived. Once more he used his hand to gently examine his leg. It too was no longer broken, but sore. And too weak to support his weight, apparently. Draco grimaced, and laid back on the sofa. He used his hands to massage his temples in an attempt to rid himself of the massive headache he was still experiencing. He knew there were potions that could relieve the pain, but he didn’t have any with him. . If he only had his _wand!_ He could fix himself up in no time and find a way out of this dump.

But then, if he could leave, where would he go? The thought of returning to the Manor made him shudder. Based on his presence here, after the last thing he remembered, he felt sure he was no longer welcome at his home. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t much want to return there anyway. Had he been able to without fearing for the safety of his parents, he would have left long before this night. If he had attempted to leave alone, his parents would be punished. His father would never abandon the Dark Lord, and his mother would never abandon her husband. So he had remained at the Manor. He wondered who had sent him here, and he tried picturing all the faces around the table earlier that night. Most he easily dismissed. He was left with the options of Severus or his parents. However, he couldn’t imagine either of them sending him straight to the Order, least of all to this poor excuse for a house.

The sounds of murmuring in the other room, mixed with some words of protest and sounds of exasperation, interrupted Draco’s train of thought. He scowled. Of all the places, this was where he had ended up. He sat up straight on the couch and morphed his face into an expressionless mask as he heard the other enter the den once more.

“Draco,” It was the Father Weasel speaking. “We have decided that, for tonight, you will be staying where you are. Before you protest, this is only because of your injuries. Any other room would require you to ascend multiple flights of stairs, and we do not want to aggravate your injuries while they are healing. After tonight, different arrangements will be made.” The man flicked his wand and a pillow as well as two blankets appeared on the other side of the sofa. Draco didn’t move, and continued to stare around the room. Before long, the Mother Weasel started speaking to him.

“Draco, we have some pain relieving potion, as well as Dreamless Sleep, if you would-“

“What, take potions from you? Not a chance. Without my wand I would have no feasible way to determine what you are giving me, and I don’t make habit of taking potions from my enemies.” Draco’s eyes narrowed. He also saw that his words struck some nerve in Mother Weasel, and he felt a flash of satisfaction. Right now, he just wanted to be left alone. “And I never said you could call me Draco.” He added as an afterthought.

Mrs. Weasley backed up a few steps and looked as though she might say something, but changed her mind and left the room quickly. Mr. Weasley looked disappointedly at Draco, but soon followed his wife. Weasley grabbed Granger’s hand, and with a look of loathing at Draco and a significant look at Potter, also departed the room. Potter gave a slight not to Weasley, but stayed behind.

“Potter, what in the bloody-“ Draco began, but was cut off.

“No, I’ll be quick. And you will listen.” Potter started. He walked up to the sofa and crouched so his eyes were level with Draco’s. “We don’t want you here anymore than you want to be here. But the Weasleys are good people; good enough to take you, a known Death Eater, in and offer you care and a place to sleep. You _will not_ continue to insult their efforts of hospitality. I don’t know what happened to you, and frankly, I don’t care. But you are stuck here now, and we are all just going to have to deal with it.”

Draco looked at Potter with a blank expression. There were plenty of things he wanted to say, but right now his head hurt, his body hurt, and he was just too exhausted. “Whatever, Potter.” He muttered, and turned to start arranging the sofa. Potter continued to glare at him for a few more seconds before turning and leaving Draco alone in the room once more.

After finishing his makeshift bed, Draco carefully laid down on the sofa, trying not to aggravate his aching body. He wasn’t very successful. His thoughts drifted back to how he ended up in the Weasley’s Burrow. He started thinking again of his parents, and his mother in particular. He knew she would do absolutely anything to keep him safe. After some more consideration, he concluded that her sending him away from the Manor made the most sense. He wondered how she was able to do it, if perhaps she was able to make some sort of bargain. While thinking about it, he did determine one thing though. As soon as he got out of here, he would go find his parents and make sure they were safe, even if it meant returning to the Manor.

With that thought in mind, and with a small sense of determination, Draco managed to fall to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to Dave his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

The next morning Harry woke with a headache and a sense of foreboding, still thoroughly exhausted. He put on his glasses and looked out the window, noticing it was rather bright outside. He assumed it was at least 9 o’clock, and was amazed Mrs. Weasley had allowed them to remain sleeping for so long. He glanced over at Ron in the bed next to him, still sleeping soundly. The rest of the house also seemed uncharacteristically quiet. Gradually, memories from the previous night began seeping into Harry’s thoughts, and he felt his body tense up. He let out a quiet groan, and wondered how long he could stay here, in Ron’s room, and just pretend Draco Malfoy wasn’t downstairs. His quiet noise did nothing to disturb Ron’s sleep, and Harry decided after a moment to leave him be. He was almost out the door when he realized he was still wearing his pajamas. Usually he would not have thought anything of it, but today was not going to be a usual day. He quickly changed out of his pajamas, and with one last look back at Ron, slipped out the door.

As Harry slowly descended the stairs, he realized the house was far quieter than he originally thought from Ron’s bedroom. It was, in fact, dead silent, and his steps on the stairs echoed through the house with deafening loudness. All the bedroom doors were closed. Harry debated turning back and waiting until Ron woke up so they could face the upcoming unpleasantness together, but dismissed the thought and continued his descent.

As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Harry slowed. He still hadn’t heard a sound in the house, but he knew he couldn’t be the only one awake. He assumed the Weasleys would have gathered in the kitchen and cast some charms to keep their conversations private. Harry wondered briefly if this was for their comfort, or Malfoys. Just as he was about to turn the corner to enter the kitchen, Harry hesitated, and brushing off his feelings of unease

He hesitated, knowing the only way to the kitchen was through the den, where Malfoy presumably was still sleeping on the couch. Brushing off his feelings of unease, Harry slowly entered the room. It was still rather dark, Harry noticed, and all the curtains were drawn. He felt his eyes pulled as if by magnets to the sofa where Malfoy had been last night.

Malfoy was still there, on the sofa, sleeping.

Harry watched him curiously for a few moments, feeling a complicated mixture of feelings rush through him at the sight of his Hogwarts rival. After seeing him last night, seeing his injuries and his vulnerability, Harry was having a hard time finding the hatred he expected to feel for the blonde wizard resting across the room. Harry lifted his foot to take a step closer to the boy, but thought better of it and turned to enter the kitchen instead.

It appeared that he and Ron, and Malfoy, had been the last ones still asleep in the house. Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were making themselves busy in the kitchen, while everyone else was seated at the table in discussion. In unison, they all glanced up at Harry’s arrival, and one by one he saw a flash of relief color their faces. Harry gave a small smile and nod before joining them at the table next to Hermione.

“Good morning Harry, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said coming up beside him. “Is Dra- oh. Hmm. Is _Mr. Malfoy_ still asleep?” While she asked this, she placed a full plate of eggs, sausages, and toast in front of him and took a seat at the table.

“Thank you Mrs. Weasley. And yes he was when I came through. Ron is asleep as well. I thought about waking him but I figured after last night he could do with the extra sleep.” Harry responded, glancing over at Hermione and giving her a small smile, which she returned. He took a small bite of his breakfast. He knew he should be hungry after the events of the previous night, but he had a strange feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake.

“That’s very kind of you Harry, dear.” Mrs. Weasley said before taking a bite of her own breakfast.

For a few minutes there was nothing but the sound of utensils scraping and chewing, the previous discussion temporarily abandoned. Harry became lost in thought, and soon left his breakfast forgotten. No one seemed to notice, however, as they were also still processing this new factor in their lives.

After a while, Mr. Weasley broke the silence. “Harry,” Harry was pulled from his reverie and looked at Mr. Weasley intently. “Before you came in we were discussing last night. We realize now that in the midst of everything, we were not appropriately mindful of our safety precautions. Now, seeing as Mr. Malfoy has not turned into someone else, it is safe to say he was not under the effects of Polyjuice potion. However, we were very lax with other measures such as checking for the Imperius curse. Based on his condition and actions, I do not believe he is under the effect of anything, but we cannot be too careful.”

Harry stared at Mr. Weasley and looked around the table, wondering how they could all have been so careless. Why had that thought not crossed his mind?! A fully cognizant Draco Malfoy was bad enough. But before Harry could start to beat himself up too much, Mr. Weasley continued. “After Mr. Malfoy has woken and we have checked his injuries, Kingsley and Remus will be here to check for any curses Mr. Malfoy may be under.”

Harry nodded, but his hands were balled into fists in his lap. Hermione noticed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Harry,” she said softly. “None of us thought to check Malfoy last night. Everything was chaotic. Don’t blame yourself.” Sha gave his arm a soft squeeze and removed her hand. Harry nodded again and forced himself to relax.

“We also need to discuss the modified sleeping arrangements now that we have an extra guest.” Mrs. Weasley said. “Fred and George have offered to stay in the flat above their store for the time being, but I’m not sure that is the safest option right now…”

“Don’t worry, mum.” Said George looking at his mother with a strangely serious look. “We stay at the shop all the time.”

“Yeah. We can take care of ourselves.” Fred added. “And we can come right back if anything strange happens.” He have Molly a soft and reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, and she returned him a tired smile.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, but ultimately gave in with a resigned sigh. “With that being the case then.” Mrs. Weasley continued. “I suppose everyone else can simply stay where they are and Dra- oh…Mr. Malfoy will take your room.” She finished with a slight indication towards Fred and George. When no one had any opposition to this theory, the conversation fizzled out into silence.

For the next several minutes, the table remained not quite comfortably quiet. No one seemed to know what to add to the conversation. Harry nibbled more on his toast, Hermione shifted in her seat, and Molly went back to bustling around the kitchen. It wasn’t until they heard a small sound from just outside the kitchen that the atmosphere in the room changed. Harry stood up cautiously, and he noticed many others at the table imitate his actions. But, before anyone could move, Ron walked in quietly. He glanced around the table with a puzzled expression, but shrugged it off and walked to the table to grab a piece of toast.

“Good morning, Ron.” Said Hermione giving him a slight look of relief which stayed on her face as Ron took a seat on the other side of Hermione. He muttered “morning Hermione” in return. Harry could hear them whispering quietly but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Presumable, Hermione was catching him up on the morning’s discussion.

“Ron, did you notice whether Mr. Malfoy is awake yet? It’s getting quite late.” Mrs. Weasley asked while scooping eggs and sausage onto the plate in front of him.

Ron leaned away from Hermione and shook his head. “I dunno mum. I mean, I didn’t really look too hard. But I think he was still lying down.”

Harry considered that for a moment before standing up from the table and walkign back towards the den. He didn’t much fancy the idea of having to wake up Malfoy, but he also didn’t think the git would actually still be asleep. He heard some others come up behind him and he opened the door.

OooOooO

Draco knew they were talking about him. He couldn’t quite hear their voices, but he knew. It took considerable control for him to keep from walking over to the kitchen door and eavesdrop.

Not that he cared what they were saying, of course.

He had been woken but the insufferable Weasel thundering down the stairs like a drunken troll. He heard him snort when he reached the bottom of the stairs and could only imagine the sneer that must have taken over the Weasel’s face. He almost laughed at the image in his head of the giant drunken sneering troll Weasel, almost, but he remained still and feigned sleep not wanting a confrontation with such a creature just yet.

Once he was sure he was alone in the room he sat up carefully. His ribs, while still tender, weren’t screaming at him as they had been the night before. He gently prodded his leg and noted similar progress, while reluctantly appreciating that the Weasleys seemed to know their way around healing charms. Unfortunately, his headache from the night before still persisted. He was in the middle of attempting to stand and test his leg when he heard the kitchen door open. He turned, and saw Potter’s face quickly change from mild surprise to annoyance. Draco managed to stand up entirely and face the hoard of people moving into the room.

No one said anything, and then tension grew palpably thick.

“Your leg seems better, then.” Potter said, stupidly, in an obvious effort to break the silence. Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. The silence returned.

He saw one of the older Weasleys turn and whisper something to their father, who promptly left the room.

The silence was broken for a second time when Mother Weasel said “We have breakfast in the kitchen, D- Mr. Malfoy, if you would care for something to eat. You certainly look like you could do with a good meal.”

Draco, ignoring the fact that he _was_ very hungry, looked at her in disdain and replied “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult my own family’s ability to nourish me.”

Mrs. Weasley was about to reply when one of the twins interjected “Don’t speak to our mother like that Malfoy.”

The other followed up with “Yeah, mate, you’ll regret it.”

Draco gave no response. He wasn’t about to pick a fight against what looked like the entire Weasley clan while he remained wandless. He flicked his eyes to the doorway where the Father Weasel was returning. 

“Kingsley and Remus will be here any minute now.” He said. Draco narrowed his eyes, but before he could interject Mr. Weasley continued. “Mr. Malfoy, in order to ensure that you do not pose a threat to our family we are having two trained individuals come to…”

“Yeah, I know who those people are. Members of your precious order.” Draco spat back to him. “You can’t just bring people here to do whatever they want with me! I won’t allow them near me.” Draco turned around to hide the look of panic he was worried they would see on his face. He was done being a guinea pig for others to treat as they wished. He headed for the door.

“Remember, Mr. Malfoy, that you are warded in this house and unable to leave.” Mr. Weasley replied. Draco narrowed his eyes but did not move away from the door. “I assure you that no one intends to do you any harm. They will simply run some spells over you to check for any curses or dangerous objects that you may be carrying.”

Mr. Weasley’s words did nothing to slow Draco’s thundering heartbeat. He wondered if they could possibly hear it. He didn’t believe that he was safe here. He didn’t like that everyone in the room was staring at him. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he reached for the door; he needed to leave with or without his wand.

To his amazement, the door opened. He stared outside for a second and took a step forward without looking back.

It was like he hit a brick wall, except it wasn’t. It was more like a solid force was pushing him backwards without moving him at all. He certainly couldn’t progress forwards. He resigned himself to this god-forsaken house and shut the door, trying to compose his dignity.

He heard Weasley snigger behind him.

“Mr. Malfoy.” Said a new, yet depressingly familiar, voice. “If you will please come with us.”

Draco turned and saw Remus Lupin, their old DADA teacher, and werewolf, standing next to an enormous and intimidating looking black man.

The other man spoke in a deep voice “You can resist, but really, what would be the point?” Draco frowned at him. Even with a wand he wouldn’t want to take this guy on. And, despite knowing that he didn’t have a choice but to comply, he stayed rooted to the spot.

“Arthur, Molly, why don’t we just use this room? Is that all right?” the werewolf asked. The Weasel patriarch nodded and ushered everyone out of the room.

Potter was the last to leave. He met Draco’s eyes with an unreadable expression before turning and following the others into the kitchen.

“Right then, let’s get started shall we?” The werewolf said. Kingsley nodded, and they raised their wands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to Dave his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

Harry, Hermione, and the remaining Weasleys had been waiting in the kitchen for a little over an hour. The den, meanwhile, had been eerily silent. No one had been saying much. Ron and Hermione were lightly holding hands under the table; Harry was pretending not to notice. Ginny, however, had come to sit next to him, which slightly helped ease his tension.

Bill and Fleur had left the house to wait outside shortly after Malfoy had been left with Lupin and Kingsley. Charlie, deciding the house still too crowded, shortly followed suit. Fred and George left soon after to open their shop. Mrs. Weasley had arranged to floo then later in the evening to update them, and bring them some things they had left at the Burrow.

Harry had been thinking back on Malfoy’s behavior during the short time they had seen him that morning. He was still snarky, rude, and cold. Undeniably so. But something about his behavior didn’t seem to match Harry’s memories of the arrogant git. Aside from the weakness related to his injuries, Malfoy seemed more vulnerable than Harry could ever remember him.

And…

There had been a moment, Harry was sure, that he had seen a look of pure terror in Malfoy’s eyes. When Mr. Weasley had told him that Lupin and Kingsley would be coming to check him over. Malfoy his it well, he doubted anyone else even noticed. After spending the majority of the previous year watching Malfoy, he had learned how to differentiate between subtle changes in his expression, body language. So, yes, he noticed, and terror was definitely there.

He glanced over at Ginny and met her eyes. She looked steadily back. Harry could see the fire starting to burn behind her eyes and was overcome with the sudden (inappropriate) urge to start snogging her right at the kitchen table.

It was perhaps lucky, then, that Kingsley chose that exact moment to open the kitchen door.

“Mr. Malfoy is not under the effects of the Imperius curse.” Kingsley told them. Harry felt the collective relief emanate from everyone in the room. Ginny grabbed his hand under the table. “Nor is he under any other curse that we were able to detect. And after searching him thoroughly we determined he does not bear any dark or dangerous objects on his person.”

“So, he’s safe?” Hermione asked, still looking apprehensive. Harry noticed this expression seemed to be shared by Arthur and Molly. Kingsley nodded.

“As far as we can tell, he does not present any immediate danger to anyone here. But we are not finished with him yet.” Kingsley responded.

Images of Malfoy on the lawn from the night before, his sunken skin and pallor, and that certain look of panic flashed in Harry’s mind. “What do you mean you’re not finished with him?” Harry asked, a little louder than he intended. He felt something stir in his gut that almost seemed like concern. Ginny released his hand and she and Ron both gave him surprised look, but Hermione seemed that she might share his…feelings.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow at him. “Remus is asking him some questions at the moment. Remus knows Mr. Malfoy better than I do, as I’m sure you remember.” Harry nodded, and waited for him to continue. “We want to know as much as we can about how and why Mr. Malfoy ended up on your lawn last night, of all nights, after the attempt on your life Harry”

Everyone around the table inclined their heads, suddenly remembering Mad Eye. It was silent for a moment.

“I thought it would be best if I allowed Remus and Mr. Malfoy to be alone for a short time.” Kingsley finished.

“Is Lupin going to use Legilimency? Or veritaserum?” Hermione asked. “I didn’t know that he…”

“No.” Kingsley answered. “No, he is merely going to ask him some questions for the time being. Depending on his answers we may take different measures in the next few days.”

“Kingsley, do you know how long it might take?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“No. I’m going to give them at least another half an hour before going back in unless Remus comes to get me.” Kinsley said, and he moved over to join them at the table. Mrs. Weasley offered him a plate with some food and he accepted with a quick word of thanks.

Harry wondered if Kingsley might be right about Malfoy answering Lupin honestly. It seemed like a stretch. Malfoy had hated Lupin when he had been their professor during third year, hardly even showing him the respect he was due simply for being a professor. Harry thought that it may have even been better for Kingsley to stay and speak with him, someone with whom he had no history. Thinking Malfoy would open up to Lupin was kin to thinking Malfoy would open up to himself.

Ridiculous.

With Harry, and the others, deep in thought they went back to waiting.

OooOooO

Draco was still looking at the door through which Kingsley had recently left. He was trying to hear what was being said on the other side, but couldn’t make out any specific words. The werewolf walked back towards Draco from the corner where he and Kingsley had been discussing Draco a few moments prior. He took a seat facing Draco but hesitated to start speaking. He seemed unsure of exactly what to say.

He and Kingsley had run Draco over with as many spells as they could think of while Draco sat silently in a chair in the middle of the room. They had tied his hands and feet so he could not attempt to leave, and had recently released him from the bonds. Draco assumed that meant they considered him at least moderately safe.

He was confused, though. Other than binding him to a chair nothing they had done had caused him even the mildest discomfort. He hadn’t wanted to believe them when they said he wouldn’t be harmed. He didn’t think it was possible that they would keep their words, what with his history…and…with him being a _Death Eater_. Draco grimaced internally at the thought.

“ _What do you mean you’re not finished with him?”_ Draco heard Potter’s voice come through the door. There was no mistaking that Potter sounded concerned. Draco narrowed his eyes in confusion.

What was happening here?

“Mr. Malfoy.” Lupin said finally breaking their silence. “It seems that you are not under any curses, and you do not have any dangerous artifacts on your person. We are relieved, of course, because this may mean that whoever sent you here did not do it with the intention of harming us, but rather protecting you.” Lupin paused and waited to see if Draco would respond.

Draco, of course, had already considered this the night before. Knowing how thoroughly he had failed the Dark Lord, he knew that by all rights he shouldn’t still be alive today. Somehow, someone had gotten him out of that hell-hole, and they had done it to keep him safe.

“Mr. Malfoy, we need to know what happened last night before you arrived here.”

Draco paused. He saw the muggle studies professor hovering over the table. He felt the trembling in his hand and he failed to kill her. He saw her eyes the second before the fell to the table, dead. He felt the horrible, unending, bone-crushing pain that followed. And, he heard the muffled voice of his mother. He felt his voice catch in his throat and he looked at the floor. “I can’t…I…I can’t…”

The werewolf continued without missing a beat. “Were you put under the cruciatus curse?”

Draco knew there was no point in lying about this. His appearance the night before, his behaviors and his injuries all made it obvious enough. He opened his mouth to answer, but found that he voice still didn’t want to come out. He closed his mouth tightly and nodded.

“And who put you under the curse?” Remus asked.

Draco looked at him in anger. “Guess” he spat.

“Voldemort then.” Lupin said simply. Draco couldn’t help but flinch when his name was said. He felt heat rise in his face. “Yes, based on what I heard about your condition I figured as much.” The werewolf paused, and looked at him with what might have been pity. Draco felt completely disgusted that the stupid half-breed even dare to look at _him_ in that way. But, before he could say anything the interrogation was continued.

“Where were you last night?”

“I could say that I can’t tell you. But it’s more that I _won’t_ tell you.” Draco replied, feeling less compliant after the turn their conversation had taken.

“From what we have gathered, the Dark Lord has been residing in your family’s home for the past several months.” Lupin said. Draco arranged his face into an expressionless mask. “You need neither confirm nor deny this. Though, I must say with it being _you_ that showed up it does lead us to believe that is his headquarters.”

Draco started him dead in the eyes, remaining expressionless and speechless. Lupin continued. “I suppose asking who was there last night would be equally pointless?”

Draco considered this. For the most part, only known Death Eaters had been present, with the obvious exception of Pius Thicknesse. He thought it over for nearly a minute before responding, “No one you wouldn’t expect, except one person who works in the Ministry. But that’s all I’m telling you.”

Lupin looked shocked at Draco’s answer, and, honestly, Draco had surprised himself with his honestly. He really couldn’t say why he had chosen to elaborate, why he had chosen to be truthful.

Lupin seized the opportunity to ask one final question. “Do you know why you were sent here?”

Again, Draco surprised himself with his honestly. But, really, what did he have to lose? “Not certainly, no. But I also believe I was sent here for my protection.” He offered no elaboration as to why he thought that. He wasn’t going to tell them anything about the night before, or any of the nights before. He hoped with all sincerity that those nights might be past him.

Lupin pursued no elaboration. He started long and hard at Draco before finally deciding what he wanted to say. “We need to know whether you have any ill intentions against the Order. Be truthful. You would be most useful as our ally. Mr. Malfoy, we can offer you incredible protection, protection we can extend to your family as well if they are willing. Draco, will you join us?”

Draco was completely taken by surprise. That was possibly the last thing he had been expecting. His stomach lurched as he was reminded of that night on the astronomy tower when Dumbledore had spoken very similar words to him. At the time, he had been paralyzed by fear, unable to process the offer that was being made. Then, before he could have even had a chance to respond they were no longer alone in the tower, Dumbledore was dead, and they were running.

At the time, he didn’t give Dumbledore an answer, but he had thought about that night every day since it had happened. At the time he had been undecided. He was so worried for his mother, he hadn’t had time to think.

But now, now he had thought it over day in and day out. Now, he had seen and experienced too many atrocities in the presence of the Dark Lord to believe his way was right. Now, he was gone from the Manor, but his mother remained there. And now, he knew what his answer would be.

“Okay.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to Dave his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

Everyone in the room had been in complete shock when Lupin had come back through the door to share his discussion with Malfoy. It took nearly two minutes for anyone to be able to say anything, which is when Harry had his outburst.

 “You’re joking, Remus. You’ve got to be joking! Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy?_ You can’t be serious. What makes you think you can trust a word he says?” Harry was pacing on the floor in disbelief at what he had just heard from Lupin. There was no conceivable way that Draco Malfoy could possibly have sincerely agreed to join their side from one short conversation. Harry wondered briefly if something could have happened in the den they weren’t aware of. Maybe Malfoy stole Lupin’s wand and addled his memory

“I must say, Remus, when we agreed to let you speak with him this is not what I had intended at the outcome. It seems to be a rash decision.” Kingsley added. Harry nodded furiously, and he saw Ron do the same across the room. Hermione was strangely quiet.

Remus stood by his decision. “Up until the moment of his death Dumbledore was willing to offer Draco Malfoy protection. He never lost hope that the boy could turn over a new leaf. If Dumbledore was willing to accept Draco while his wand was pointed at his heart, I think we can do the same now, under these unexpected circumstances. Look, when I was talking to him just now I…I _know_ he was being honest with me. I remember what he was like as my student, and the person in there is not the same as he was. He’s changed. I truly believe he wants to join our side.”

“I see where you’re coming from, Remus.” Arthur said, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I do not think you are entirely wrong. But, I do think that it is too soon to tell whether or not we can trust him.

“I mean, he did try to kill me just last year…” Ron mumbled from the side of the room. Hermione gave him a stern look.

“Ronald he did not try to kill _you_ he was trying to kill _Dumbledore-_ “ She stopped for a moment as if realizing that this really wasn’t helping Malfoy’s case but recovered quickly, “And if Dumbledore could look past that then I think you can as well.” Hermione finished and lifted her nose just slightly in the air. Harry was slightly surprised to see that Hermione seemed to be taking Lupin’s side in defense of Malfoy.

Lupin smiled at Hermione and cast a halfway-apologetic look towards Ron. “Yes, that’s exactly my point. Think of how useful he could be for us!”

“No one is denying his usefulness, just his intentions.” Arthur responded.

The room grew quiet once more. Harry clearly remembered the look on Malfoy’s face when Dumbledore made him the offer. Malfoy was clearly terrified of what he was doing, and Harry had been sure he wouldn’t be able to follow through with it. When Dumbledore had offered sanctuary for him and his family, just for a moment, Harry was sure he’d seen relief of Malfoy’s face. It had quickly been covered back up by fear.

But maybe, maybe if there had been more time in the tower, if Dumbledore had not been so weak, if the offer had been made under different circumstances, maybe he would have taken it. Harry was snapped out of his reverie when Kingsley spoke again.

“Remus, I’m sorry, but we can’t simply let the Malfoy boy join in on all our secrets based on this feeling that you had with him just now. He may not be dangerous, but we certainly can’t trust him with secure information.” Kingsley said with stern authority. Lupin signed, looking disappointed, and inclined his head.

“Of course, I understand. But I wouldn’t count him out just yet. He may surprise you.” Lupin turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “I must be going now. Molly, Arthur, I’m sure I will be seeing you again soon.” And with that he turned and strode out the door.

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Well then, with that settled Mr. Malfoy will still be requiring a place to stay. We can arrange a place for him elsewhere if…”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. We already have the wards in place and have made some arrangements. We don’t want to put you to any trouble. With all of us here, I’m sure everything will be fine.” Molly said, looking unsure but sounding confident. She was never one to turn down a person in need of a place to stay, no matter the circumstances. Mr. Weasley put an arm around his wife’s waist and gave her a reassuring kiss on the head.

“Yes, Kingsley, he can stay here. Should we need any assistance we will not hesitate to let you know. Feel free to come by any time.” Arthur said.

Kingsley nodded and gave a short bow in the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waved a hand to the rest of them, and walked out the door.

OooOooO

When Lupin had first exited the den Draco had stayed in his seat thoroughly shocked with his present situation. Only 12 hours ago he had been in the Manor being tortured to within an inch of his life. 12 hours ago he felt sure that he was going to die like a coward while his parents watched.

12 hours ago Draco would have never thought in a thousand years that he would have just agreed to join the Order.

Sure, he realized that he didn’t want to fight on the side of the Dark Lord. Draco believed in blood purity, and he knew that his pure-blood status was something that deserved the utmost respect. He believed that pure-bloods and mudbloods shouldn’t have to coexist at school and pretend that they were of equal status.

But Draco didn’t believe in continuous, senseless, violent homicide. He had seen enough. He had wanted out for a long time, but he didn’t think escape was a possibility. Maybe if he had been there alone, but he also had to consider his parents’ safety. Most particularly, his mother’s.

His mother. She was the real reason Draco had agreed. The werewolf had said they would find his family and offer them sanctuary. If it meant keeping his mother safe, he would join the Order 100 times over; he would do whatever it took.

Draco realized that he has started pacing the room when he found himself standing quite close to the kitchen door. He knew, once again, that they were in there discussing him. He found himself wishing that, for once in the ridiculous house, he could be involved in discussions that involved his life. Hadn’t he just agreed to join their stupid side? He had just made up his mind to enter the kitchen and give them a piece of his mind when the deep voice of Kingsley came through the door quite clearly.

“ _Remus, I’m sorry, but we can’t simply let the Malfoy boy join in on all our secrets based on this feeling that you had with him just now. He m_ -“ Draco turned away from the door and walked to the other side of the room. They didn’t believe him. Of course they didn’t. It had been too quick, too easy.

Draco punched the wall.

“I fucking hate these people” Draco muttered to himself. And he found that it was completely true. He did hate them, despite having agreed to join their side. An agreement which, apparently, meant absolutely nothing. But it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to like them. He thought both sides were absolute garbage. He just wanted to keep himself and his family safe.

If they didn’t trust him, that was fine. But if he was going to ensure his family’s continued safety, he would have to play his part. He would make them trust him. Somehow.

Draco went back to sit on the couch. He figured someone would be coming back into the den soon to tell him what would happen to him. Despite what Kingsley had said, Draco knew they wouldn’t send him back to the Dark Lord, he was too valuable to them. At the very least he knew too much information for them to risk it. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, because soon Arthur Weasley was coming through the door with the others close behind him.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Arthur began, sounding wary. “Remus told us what the two of you had been discussing earlier. I have to say, it took us all by surprise.” Draco could tell he was beating around the bush and raised his eyebrows waiting for him to get to the point. “Remus seems convinced that you are willing to…switch sides. But, we-“

“Yes, I heard what Kingsley said. You don’t think I’m trustworthy.” Draco cut him off. Really, he didn’t want to hear them say it again, so he beat him to it. “I understand. I suppose you’ll be taking me to the Ministry to turn me in, then?” He knew they wouldn’t. But he wanted to show that, even if they were, he wouldn’t put up a fight.

“Not exactly.” Mr. Weasley answered.

“We discussed it, and decided that you will stay here with us.” Mrs. Weasley said. Draco saw Weasley looking murderous. Apparently not everyone was happy with this arrangement. “We already have the wards in place for you, and you will be safe here.”

Despite himself, Draco felt his heart rise just slightly at the thought of being safe. Earlier, he hadn’t believed them when he said he wouldn’t be harmed, but after the events of this morning he thought a bit differently. If nothing else, he did believe that this place would be safe for him. He nodded.

“Alright then.” Draco said. “Where-“

“What happened to yesterday when you couldn’t wait to get out of here?” Potter interrupted. He looked angry, yet genuinely curious.

“I changed my mind, Potter. Haven’t you been paying attention?” Draco shot back. Potter looked ready to respond but the mudblood grabbed his arm and shook her head.

Mr. Weasley continued as if Potter hadn’t rudely interrupted, answering Draco’s unfinished question. “You will be staying in Fred and George’s room while you are here, as they have agreed to stay above their shop.”

“It’s on the third floor, the door has their names on it so you’ll know which to look for. I can show you the way if you’d like.” Mrs. Weasley added.

“No, I’ll find it.” Draco said. He paused, considered his next words, and continued. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for allowing me to stay with you.” He said walking up to the Father Weasel and shaking his hand. He saw Potter from over Mr. Weasley’s shoulder, his mouth gaping in complete astonishment. Draco smirked at him. Mr. Weasley also looked surprised, but he at least hid it better than Potter. “And you as well, Mrs. Weasley. I sincerely appreciate your hospitality.” Draco continued offering her a small bow. Weasley, next to Potter, audibly gasped in shock. Draco felt immensely pleased with himself and his performance.

“And…” Draco hesitated, but knew it would ultimately help his case. “And you may call me Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and/or commented; I hope you all like it so far! There is much more to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to save his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

The next week at the Burrow proved to be one of the strangest Harry had ever experienced. And Harry had experienced his share of strange weeks.

Of course, it was all due to their new guest. Malfoy (Harry refused to call him Draco) was behaving in ways that Harry simply couldn’t wrap his mind around.

Malfoy largely kept to himself in Fred and George’s room. At first he didn’t join them even for meals, but after a few days he started to linger for longer and longer periods when food was ready. Eventually, he had decided to join them for breakfast on the third day, and had continued having meals with them since. He never said a word during meals though, unless it was a thanks to Mrs. Weasley for the food, and he excused himself promptly when he was finished.

Also on the third day of Malfoy’s stay, Mrs. Weasley noticed that he was still wearing the same shabby clothes from the night he appeared on the lawn. She had gone into Bill’s room (they were the closest in size) and emerged with an armful of old clothes for Malfoy to wear. This gesture didn’t surprise Harry in the least. What did surprise Harry was when Malfoy proceeded to thank her in a way that seemed honestly genuine and wear the clothes without comment on their second-hand nature.

In fact, other than these words of thanks, Harry hadn’t heard Malfoy speak a single word for the entire week. There was no bickering or taunting, no hostility or arrogance. Basically, there was no sign of the Malfoy that Harry had known for the past 6 years. So, despite seeing so little of him, Harry found himself watching Malfoy whenever he could. Perhaps it was old habit, perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps it was pure disbelief. Sadly, Harry was able to glean very little from his observations, save for one detail.

Malfoy also came out of Fred and George’s room twice for meetings with Remus, Kingsley, and a few members of the Auror department who Harry didn’t know. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if they knew why these meetings were happening, were not sharing any information, and Lupin and Kingsley always left promptly afterwards. And Malfoy always left the meetings looking concerned, hurrying back to his room as quickly as he could while attempting to hold his composure.

It was these meetings that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were currently discussing in Ron’s cramped bedroom.

“D’you think they could be putting him through some kind of tests?” Ron asked. He was sitting on his bed and Hermione was sitting on the ground next to him looking through a book.

“Maybe. But they are always really quiet in there.” Harry answered from his cot.

“Well they obviously want to keep it quiet. They probably put up silencing charms so we don’t know what they’re doing.” Hermione added. She placed the book in one of the many piles of books on the floor of Ron’s room. Harry had asked, and she claimed to be sorting them according to how likely they were to need them while looking for Horcruxes.

“It must be something like that, though. Why else would they bring in Aurors?” Ron persisted. Harry nodded in agreement. It did seem to be the most likely scenario. “Do you think he’s really joined our side?” Ron asked. Hermione sighed.

They had discussed this countless times over the past few days, talking over the likelihood that Draco Malfoy would really truly defect from the Death Eaters, and his _father_. Harry couldn’t make himself believe it.

“We’ve been over this Ron.” Hermione said exasperatedly picking up another book. “I’m not ready to trust him yet, but he also hasn’t done anything to make me think he isn’t being genuine.”

Ron grumbled. Harry said, “You don’t think he’s been acting strangely?”

Hermione looked up at him. “I’m not sure what you mean by strangely, Harry. Of course he’s been acting differently, but I suspect you’d act differently too if you were suddenly, say, stuck in Malfoy Manor.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” She said waving her hand dismissively, returning to her books. Harry smiled slightly, he even almost laughed, and looked up at Ron who shrugged his shoulders.

“What if he really has joined our side?” Ron asked quietly.

Harry had thought about that too. What if Draco really was defecting from the Death Eaters? Like Lupin had said, he would be a valuable asset to their side. He must know all sorts of information about Voldemort’s plans, whereabouts, or the names of his followers. Harry wondered if, in a world where Draco stopped being a Death Eater if they would ever be able to settle their differences and work together. It seemed like a stretch. Some people just aren’t meant to be friends. For the sake of the greater good though? Harry would at least try to work with him. And then, there would also be the question of what could make Draco Malfoy leave Voldemort and come to their side?

But also, what if he wasn’t? What if everything that had happened was part of a plan to sabotage Harry and help Voldemort gain more power? Harry shuddered to think about all the information he could give Voldemort if he managed to escape the Burrow, if he even wanted to escape the Burrow.

“I don’t know.”

OooOooO

Draco hated everything about being stuck in the Burrow. He hated the cramped house, always bustling with too many people and too much noise. He hated the ratty second-hand rags he had to wear (Although, he had to admit that the eldest Weasley son at least had a better taste in clothes than the rest of them). He hated all the Weasleys that were surrounding him constantly with their red-haired blood-traitor genes. He hated the mudblood simply for existing in a space so close to where he was, and for receiving considerably better treatment than he. And he hated Potter.

Draco could tell Potter was watching him. It was so incredibly obvious, the Golden Boy didn’t seem to be trying to hide it at all. But, Draco pretended not to notice. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him every time he left his room. Most particularly, he could feel Potter watching him when he had meetings with the werewolf, Kingsley, and the Aurors.

 

Still, Draco was proud of himself. He had managed to make it through an entire week without major incident at the Burrow. He was keeping to himself, controlling his temper, and doing his best to convince them all he was trustworthy.

Most of this convincing took place during the aforementioned meetings. Prior to the first one, Draco had had no forewarning. He’d been in his room the day after speaking with the werewolf when Mrs. Weasley had come to knock on his door and inform him that people were waiting for him in the kitchen. Feeling wary, Draco had gone into the kitchen to find the aforementioned werewolf, Kingsley, and two more men he didn’t know that introduced themselves as Aurors. The atmosphere in the room had been unmistakably tense.

“ _Draco, we are here to discuss your parents._ ” Lupin had said.

Draco had felt his stomach drop through the floor while he waited to Lupin to continue.

“ _We are going to attempt to evacuate them and bring them to a safehouse. For this, we will need your compliance._ ”

His parents would be safe? Draco wanted to believe them, and found that he did. If he could give them the right information they could get his parents out. Draco suspected that his parents wouldn’t be willing to join the Order, but he felt confident that he could at least convince them to stop supporting the Dark Lord.

They spent the majority of the first meeting discussing details about the Manor. Draco told them what he could regarding the layout of his home, the protective wards, and anything he thought could help them get inside. He knew, though, that this information was only the beginning. He hoped they would believe that he was telling them the truth.

A few days later, Mrs. Weasley came to his door yet again. This time, Draco hurried downstairs to find out if they had any new information about his parents. They didn’t.

Instead, they had talked about anything Draco knew about the Dark Lord’s plans. If they were going to enter the Manor, they needed to do it at an opportune time. Draco told them, honestly, that there wasn’t much he knew, but he told them what he could.

They started discussing alternative ways of getting to Draco’s parents. Draco had told them places his father frequently visited, like stores in Knockturn Alley. But also…

“ _My mother hasn’t left the grounds of the Manor in months. And my father is leaving less frequently as well. It’s possible that they won’t be allowed out anymore.”_

Everyone had nodded. Draco could tell they were unsure of how to get to Draco’s parents. But Draco wanted to believe that they would find a way. It was the only thing that was keeping him sane.

Outside of the meetings, time moved slowly. A week after Draco arrived at the Burrow he entered the kitchen for breakfast and was surprised to see them all leaning in over the kitchen table speaking earnestly. Typically the Weasley’s were careful not to discuss any sensitive information around mealtimes, knowing Draco would be joining them. Curious at what could have distracted them from his presence in the kitchen, Draco stayed by the door listening carefully.

OooOooO

Harry, Hermione, Lupin and Tonks, and most of the Weasleys were sitting around the kitchen table. It had been exactly a week since Malfoy had shown up in the middle of the night. Fred and George were visiting for breakfast; they had been checking in at the Burrow almost daily. They, too, had been shocked to hear that Malfoy may actually be joining their side. Lupin and Tonks had also chosen this morning to check in with the Weasleys and ensure that everything was still running smoothly.

Mrs. Weasley and Fleur were standing off to the side in the kitchen discussing details about the wedding, which as quickly approaching. Bill was sitting near them listening carefully, occasionally adding his thoughts and preparing himself to diffuse any arguments that might arise.

Ginny was sitting rather closely next to Harry. They hadn’t seen much of each other the past week with Harry, Ron, and Hermione busying themselves with preparations to leave after the wedding. Harry wondered briefly what might happen to Malfoy once he was no longer there. He assumed the Weasley’s would continue to house him.

Ginny’s arm brushed up against his own and he felt a small chill run up his spine. He was having trouble being this close to her knowing that they couldn’t be together, and knowing that soon he would be leaving for an undetermined amount of time. He looked up at her and saw that she was smiling at him almost playfully. He reluctantly almost smiled back. It had been a while since he had last smiled genuinely. At least a week.

A pecking sound came from near the window and Charlie got up to allow the owl carrying the Daily Prophet to enter the kitchen. He paid the owl and retrieved the paper from its leg, bringing it to the table. They had all been hesitant to continue receiving the Prophet, but occasionally it did still contain useful information.

Today turned out to be one of those days.

Charlie’s eyes went wide as he read the headline on the front page of the Prophet, and he quickly called his mother over. Charlie was holding the paper at an angle that meant he couldn’t read the page.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, also closely observing Charlie.

Mrs. Weasley snatched the paper out of his hands. Harry saw a tear form in the corner of her eyes, and her hands started to shake. “Oh dear…” she whispered, handing the paper to her husband.

Mr. Weasley, aware of the tension in the room, placed the paper in the center of the table for everyone to see. The headline read:

_Prestigious Wizarding Family Found Dead_

And below was a picture of Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy that looked to be less than a year old.

Harry felt his stomach drop and his chest tighten. Malfoy’s parents were dead. He looked below the picture and read:

_Yesterday evening, an employee at Borgin and Burkes (who wishes to remain nameless) entered Malfoy Manor on previous invitation to find Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy (n_ _ée Black) lying dead on the floor of their dining room. The employee immediately notified the Ministry who sent officials to the scene at once. Ministry officials claim that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy appear to have died from the killing curse. Their only child, son Draco Malfoy, was not found on the property, but at the time is also assumed dead. Ministry officials say they are not certain who-_

“What is it?” Fleur asked, sounding worried. The table was too crowded for her to see the paper.

Harry tried opening his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Hermione spoke instead, in a very small voice. “Malfoy’s parents were found dead in their Manor last night.”

Harry heard a choked sound from near the doorway and his eyes snapped up. Malfoy way standing in front of the door with his eyes wide in shock, his mouth slightly open. Harry’s eyes met his for only a second, and Harry saw Malfoy’s soul break. Then, before anyone could say a word Malfoy had fled the kitchen with the door slamming behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone the next chapter is up, I hope you liked it! Comment and let me know what you think!  
> Also, poor Draco.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to save his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

_Dead. They’re dead. My parents. My mother._

_Dead._

Draco had run straight to his room and locked the door. He couldn’t deal with anyone right now. He stood in the room and stared at nothing in particular, but it was like he didn’t see anything. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. It was her face from the last time Draco had seen her face with any semblance of happiness on its features. From when he had returned home with Severus. He could practically feel her arms wrapped tightly around him.

_You’ll never see her again._

_She’s dead._

The word kept running through his mind. So many times that it almost lost its meaning.

Almost.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed he had taken with his head in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair. His chest felt tight, constricted, like he was suffocating. He tried to draw in a breath but felt his throat tighten. He didn’t register that his body was shaking.

_Someone killed them. My parents._

_Dead._

A sob wracked through his chest and he did nothing to stop it. He didn’t consider that anyone might possibly hear him. He curled further in on himself, like he could hold his soul together if he held his body close enough. What was the point of anything if he couldn’t save his parents?

_Parents._

He _killed them._

_Instead of me._

Draco felt the guilt rise like burning venom through his entire being. He rolled onto his stomach and screamed into the pillow. It was his fault they were dead. If he hadn’t been such a coward, such a disappointment, it wouldn’t have happened.

He felt lightheaded. He felt sick. He felt an empty hole in himself that threatened to consume him.

He didn’t feel the hot tears streaming from his eyes, down his face, onto the pillow.

_My fault. It’s my fault they’re dead._

_It should have been me._

_Dead._

OooOooO

Harry was still staring at the spot where Malfoy had been a few moment before. The look in Malfoy’s eyes before he left the room had shaken him to his core. Harry thought he had seen Malfoy in pain when he had cast _sectumsempra_ on him. But that pain was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to what Harry had just seen.

Someone at the table cleared their throat and it brought Harry’s attention back to those around him. Charlie was the first to break the silence. Unlike everyone else, it seemed that he had continued to read the Prophet article.

“It says here that the initial report puts the date of…the date of death at roughly a week ago. They will know more once the…” He cleared his throat. “Once they have been examined by some Healers.”

“A week ago?” Hermione said. “But that would mean-“

“They were killed the night Draco arrived here, yes.” Lupin finished. He looked more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Tonks laid a hand on his arm and they shared a significant look that Harry didn’t understand. “I’m sorry to leave so abruptly everyone but, given this new information, I need to speak with Kingsley at once.” Without waiting for a response he and Tonks rose from the table and quickly exited the Burrow.

“Charlie, what else does the article have to say?” Mr. Weasley asked. Charlie considered his response for a minute before pointing his wand at the Prophet and muttering “ _Geminio”_ three times. Three duplicates of the paper appeared and he passed one to his parents and Bill, one to Fred and George, and the other to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “I think it would be best if you just read the article for yourselves” he explained.

It was cramped with all four of them huddled around the one paper. Harry scanned through the first few sentences to find where he left off.

_Ministry officials say they are not certain who cast the killing curse on the Malfoys, but stated that they will be making every effort to find the culprit._

_Pius Thicknesse,_ _Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, told reporters last night, “Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have always been prominent and respected members of our society. We are going to make this investigation a top priority.”_

_Preliminary examination of the bodies suggests that both had been deceased for approximately one week prior to being found. Furthermore, the Malfoy home appeared deserted when the aforementioned employee entered last night. Most rooms in the Manor appeared as though they had been unoccupied for months. The employee was quoted as saying, “Strange going in that house, it was. Eerie. Usually there’s a house-elf or something to open the door and let you in but there weren’t nothing there. I let myself in and never saw a soul ‘til I found them.”_

_Draco Malfoy, the only child of Lucius and Narcissa, was not found on the Malfoy property. While the consensus among Ministry professionals appears to be that he is also dead, he will henceforth be considered a missing person and a secondary investigation will be launched to determine his whereabouts. Anyone with information regarding Draco Malfoy should contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately._

“Thicknesse is full of shit.” Bill said, just as Harry was finishing the paper. Mrs. Weasley looked at him sternly, but he shrugged her off. Harry found himself completely agreeing with Bill’s sentiment.

“Remus reckons that he’s working for You-Know-Who now.” Charlie added. “Convenient that he’s the one heading the investigation isn’t it?”

“But why would he be spreading the rumor that Malfoy is dead?’ Ron asked.

“Maybe he’s supposed to be dead.” Harry said. The gears in his brain were rapidly turning as he tried to make sense of everything, and fit in the new information he had just learned. He was just starting to form an idea when Hermione beat him to it.

“Oh.” She said quietly. “Do you think that Voldemort killed his parents because they sent him here?”

“But then why would Thicknesse think he’s dead?” George interjected. Again, Harry tried to come up with some reasonable explanation when Hermione got there first.

“Because Voldemort wouldn’t want anyone to know that Malfoy got away.” She said.

“Yes, Hermione, that does sound like a likely scenario.” Mr. Weasley said. He looked completely exhausted. He turned to Mrs. Weasley and said quietly “Perhaps we underestimated them” and she nodded looking tearful. Harry knew that they were discovering a newfound respect for the Malfoys. Despite all personal differences, there was nothing the Weasley’s would respect more than a parent sacrificing themselves for their child.

What had happened the night Malfoy appeared on the lawn? What had happened to put him in so much danger that his parents would send him to the Weasleys? Did Malfoy know who had sent him here? Was Malfoy following their same lines of reasoning as to why his parents were now dead?

Harry’s mind was swimming with questions. He was aware of some more quiet discussion at the table but he was too lost in his thoughts to truly hear what they were saying. And then, suddenly, something clicked in his mind and it felt as though someone had punched him in the gut.

Malfoy’s parents were dead. Both of them. He has no other real family. Malfoy was an orphan.

Just like he, Harry, was.

Harry sat there feeling numb from this realization, until Ginny gently laid a hand on his. He looked at her with unfocused eyes.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asked quietly, trying not to draw attention. He blinked twice until she came into clearer view.

“Yeah. It’s just…a lot to process, you know?” He said. She nodded, but gave his eyes a searching look before turning away. She left her hand where it was. Harry didn’t mind.

Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley had all left shortly for work, and the rest of the day passed in a blur. No one quite knew what to say, and everyone tried to carry on as if nothing had changed. Harry found himself retreating into his own thoughts frequently, but no one said anything as they were all doing the same.

Harry didn’t sleep well that night and woke up frequently following nightmare in which Malfoy was sobbing at the feet of Voldemort begging for his parents while Voldemort laughed coldly and tortured him.

The next day passed slowly and in similar fashion. Malfoy had not, to anyone’s knowledge, left his room. Mrs. Weasley became worried and brought him up a tray of food at every meal, knocking gently at the door and telling him that it was there should he want it. She did this three times, and three times the meal remained outside the door as it went cold. They didn’t hear a sound come from the room.

The next night Harry slept just as badly, his slumber filled with dreams of Malfoy laying on the floor of the astronomy tower in a pool of his own blood while Harry stood above him, wand raised, and Voldemort congratulated him on a job well done. He woke drenched in a cold sweat, and went to take a shower before breakfast. When he glanced in the mirror he noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and had dark shadows underneath.

That morning, Mrs. Weasley was genuinely worried. Harry heard her over breakfast discussing with Mr. Weasley whether or not they should charm Malfoy’s door open to ensure that he was alright. They agreed that, if he hadn’t come out by mid-afternoon they would enter the room with or without his permission.

Harry spent the morning back up in Ron’s room, thinking about what would happen if they went in to Malfoy’s room using magic. He imagined it wouldn’t go over well. He thought again about his revelation in the kitchen two days prior. Malfoy was an orphan; he had no family. Harry knew, of course, that everyone else was aware of this as well. But, Harry also knew that no one else understood what this meant as well as he did.

Mid-afternoon came and Malfoy hadn’t come out of the room. Mr. Weasley, after conferring with his wife, was about to head there when Harry stopped him.

“Wait.” Harry said, before he could talk himself out of it. Everyone looked at him. “Before you do that, let me try.”

“Harry, I really don’t think Ma-“ Hermione started by Harry cut her off.

“Just, let me try and talk to him.” Harry stated firmly. And, with everyone looking at him suspiciously, Harry headed to Malfoy’s room.

OooOooO

 

Draco was laying on the bed on his back staring at the ceiling, a position he had spent the majority of the past 3 days in. Once the initial shock wore off, he had done everything in his power to shut his body down. He cleared his mind, he didn’t think, he didn’t move. And he had stayed there.

A few times a day he heard Mrs. Weasley come to his door, claiming to be bringing him food. Despite him never taking it, she kept coming every day. Perhaps he would have taken it, but somehow he just couldn’t find the will to move. At first he had felt somewhat hungry, but that feeling had passed.

He did move on the first night, though. When he was sure everyone was asleep he had quietly left the room and gone to the bathroom across the hall. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, and he had filled a small glass with some water. Water he hadn’t really consumed. And, since he hadn’t eaten, he hadn’t needed to do that again. 

So, there he was, laying on his back on the bed. He heard some footsteps coming up the stairs, and assumed it would be Mrs. Weasley carrying up yet more food that he wasn’t going to eat. The knock on the door, however, sounded different. Draco’s attention focused in, preparing himself for something different. Nothing could have prepared him, though, for hearing Potter’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Malfoy, would you open the door?”

Draco’s sat up on the bed, which took more effort than he would like to admit. Still, he didn’t move towards the door. Why Potter?

“Malfoy, stop moping and let me in.”

Draco’s blood started to summer. Moping? How dare Potter talk to him like that! His parents were…It’s not like he…Draco felt his breath catch and realized something that hadn’t occurred to him before. He found that an inability rather than an unwillingness to move kept him rooted to the spot.

 “Fine Malfoy, whatever, but just know they’re about to blast your door in if you won’t open it.”

Draco hardly knew what he was doing as he felt his body rise and slowly carry him to the door. He stood at it for only a moment before finally turning the handle and revealing Potter on the other side.

“Potter, won’t you come in?” Draco asked sarcastically, surprised by how rough his voice sounded after nearly a week and a half of minimal use. Potter was staring at him dead in the eyes with a curious expression, and Draco stared right back coldly. Finally, it was Potter who blinked, and looked beyond Draco to the room. He walked in, taking the bed that was obviously unoccupied, and Draco shut the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the latest update! I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can. Thanks to everyone who's reading, commenting, etc., I appreciate all your feedback!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the summer after sixth year and Draco Malfoy has disappointed the Dark Lord one too many times. Hoping to save his life, Severus Snape does the first thing he can think of: he sends him to the Burrow.

Chapter 8

Draco turned to look at Potter, who was sitting rather stiffly on the second bed in the room. Potter was looking at his knees, and he was holding something in his hands that Draco hadn’t noticed before. Draco stood at the door for a moment longer in preparation for whatever was to come before walking slowly to his bed and sitting on the edge facing Potter. Practically mirroring his exact position. Neither of them were willing to be the first to break the silence. Draco considered multiple ways he could start… _What the hell do you want? Tell me why you’re here or get the fuck out. Why the bloody fuck would I want to talk to you?_ Ultimately, though, he decided on,

“What are you holding?”

Potter looked up and met his gaze. Draco noticed that Potter’s hair was even more unkempt than usual, if that were possible, and it was starting to hang into his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, there were prominently dark shadows underneath them. Draco thought the combination made Potter look rather homeless. Potter’s hands twitched and the movement drew Draco’s eyes downward.

“I thought you might be hungry, so I grabbed it before I came in.” Potter said, extending the muffin he was holding out to Draco. Draco simply started at it, but made no attempt to take it. Potter waited five seconds before retracting his hand and placing the muffin on the table between the beds. “I’ll just leave it here, then, shall I? It’s blueberry.”

Draco made no reaction. He probably should be hungry, he probably should eat it, but he’d be damned to eat that muffin in front of Potter. He remained still, and flicked his eyes back up to stare straight into Potter’s. Potter had a curious, confused, and cautious expression on his face. If he didn’t just tell Draco why the _fuck_ he had come banging on his door…

“So, er, Malfoy…” Potter started. He shifted and looked back down at his knees, obviously uncomfortable. “I, um, I…well…I guess first I just wanted to say that I’m…”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re sorry, Potter.” Draco snarled at him. He felt rage start to burn in his chest.

Potter seemed to gain some confidence from Draco’s reaction. “What I mean is, I’m sorry you found out like that. We should’ve had Lupin or Kingsley tell you in private, or something.”

That surprised Draco a little. He replied, “It wouldn’t have made any difference. They’re still d-dead.” He hoped Potter didn’t catch his slight falter.

“Right, well, yes.” Potter said. He looked uncomfortable again. Silence grew between them again. Eventually, Potter continued. “But, Malfoy, I am sorry. And, er, I know I didn’t exactly get along with your dad or anything, but…”

“Shut up!” Draco shouted, suddenly on his feet. “Shut up about my father! You don’t know anything about him!” Draco could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and he turned to walk the length of the room, fists shaking at his sides. “My parents would have done anything for me.” Draco said more softly, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t look up, but he could feel Potter watching him intently.

Potter abruptly changed the topic, eyes narrowed. “Malfoy, what happened the night you came here?”

“The fuck does it matter, Potter?” Draco spat at him. But the question worried him. Why was Potter asking? What did he know? He wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. He wasn’t ready to talk about any of this yet, least of all with Potter.

“The Prophet said…” Potter began but Draco cut him off.

“I don’t care what the bloody Prophet said!” He shouted, turning again. But, this time it was to hide the concern on his face. He tried to think of something to say to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Potter continued in a rush.

“It said they had been dead for a week. Since the night you came here.”

Draco froze. So he had been right? The Dark Lord had killed his parents as punishment for his failure. Before he had speculated, he had been almost certain, but there had still been even the smallest reason for doubt. Something he could hold on to, to try and convince himself that maybe it wasn’t all his fault. But now, what else could he think? He felt the grief creeping back over him slowly. His chest tightened, his eyes blurred, his body weakened. He didn’t think he would be able to remain standing, but he couldn’t move.

“I think what your parents did was very brave.” Potter said. His voice sounded far away. At first, Draco didn’t register the meaning of his words, but gradually they began to cement themselves more firmly in his mind. Did they know? Draco regained his faculties, but noticed that Potter was leaving the room.

Potter stopped at the door and turned halfway back to Draco. “Would you like to read the article from the Prophet?” He asked. Draco wasn’t sure if he was ready, but he also knew that he shouldn’t be keeping himself in the dark. When he didn’t answer, Potter said, “I’ll ask Mrs. Weasley to bring it up with your dinner.” And he walked out of the room closing the door behind him.

 Draco went to the door right after he left and locked it.

OooOooO

Following his conversation with Malfoy, Harry was all but ambushed by the Weasleys and Hermione. He told them as best he could that Malfoy was very upset about his parents and that he was unwilling to talk about it.

“But, why did he even open the door for you?” Ron asked, thoroughly confused.

“Well, I told him that his door was about to be blasted open, so maybe that’s why?” Harry answered. To be honest, he himself couldn’t figure out why Malfoy let him in.

He summarized majority of their conversation for his audience, but found himself omitting the very end. It felt too personal, almost intimate, and he didn’t want anyone else to know how Malfoy had looked after finding out the date of his parents’ death. Harry had been almost positive Malfoy was going to faint in the middle of the floor. He had looked so vulnerable. It didn’t feel right to share that with anyone else.

“Oh, and, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry said, walking over to her. He made sure no one could hear him. “Can you take a copy of the Prophet from three days ago up with his dinner tonight?”

Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows, but agreed.

Later that night, as Harry and Ron were walking up the stairs for bed, Harry glanced at the tray outside Malfoy’s door. He noticed that the Prophet had been taken off the tray, and that a fair amount food appeared to have been eaten. He also noticed an empty muffin liner crumpled on top of a plate. And he almost smiled.

The next day, Malfoy still didn’t come out of his room. Or at least, no one ever saw him come out of his room. However, each time Mrs. Weasley left a tray of food outside his door, it would disappear and then reappear a few hours later devoid of most of its contents. 

Lupin came by again to see if Malfoy would be willing to meet with him. The lack of response when Lupin knocked on Malfoy’s door indicated that he was not in fact willing. Harry tried to ask Lupin if there was any new information, but Lupin left in a hurry without so much as a backwards glance at Harry’s attempts for discourse. Harry considered making his own attempt to talk to Malfoy again, but decided that even if Malfoy did let him in he didn’t have anything to say. Maybe tomorrow.

The following day, the Daily Prophet ran another article regarding the Malfoys. There was no new information pertaining to the investigation, but there was information about the funeral, which would be held the following day on the Manor grounds. When Harry was sure everyone had finished the Prophet for the day he grabbed it and started to exit he kitchen, heading for the stairs.

“Harry, why are you taking the paper with you?” Hermione asked, eyeing him curiously. He inwardly cursed her, just a little, for drawing attention to him.

“Oh, I just, er, well, I thought Malfoy would want to read it.” He replied. He left the room quickly before anyone could respond.

Harry knocked on the door and waited for any sign of recognition. After 10 seconds, when he received none, he knocked again.

“Malfoy, it’s me. I brought something you might want to see.” Harry said, and listened again. It only took five seconds this time; the lock on the door was turned, and the door was opening.

“What is it, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. Harry noticed that he looked considerably better than he had a few days before. His skin, which had almost taken an ashen hue, was returning to its normal level of pallor.

When he tried to speak, though, he found himself unsure exactly how to begin. “Well, er, there was something printed in the Prophet today about your, um, your parents, and I…er…well it’s about…”

“Can you even string a coherent sentence together without stammering, Potter?” Malfoy asked, sneering. Still, he stepped aside to allow Harry to enter. Harry felt heat rise in his face and he glared at Malfoy as he walked past to the same bed from a few days before. He waited until Malfoy had sat on his own bed, like two days ago, before continuing. He held the Prophet out to Malfoy.

“It’s about your parents’ funeral. It’s going to be on the Manor grounds tomorrow.” Harry said, and waited to see Malfoy’s reaction.

Malfoy slowly reached for the paper and read the short article. His face remained expressionless, but Harry could see a slight tremor in his hands. When Harry was sure Malfoy had finished he said, “If you wanted to go I could talk to Mr. Weasley and see…”

“I can’t go.” Malfoy said. He didn’t look up from the paper.

“I’m sure we could figure something out, they could disillusion you or…”

“I said I can’t go!” Malfoy said loudly. He finally looked up to meet Harry’s eyes, and Harry could tell he was carefully guarding his emotions. “Thank you for telling me.” He said stiffly, sitting further up on the bed, stretching his legs out, and opening the Prophet to the second page. Harry could tell Malfoy wanted him to leave. Part of him felt like he should stay anyway, but after a minute of watching Malfoy pretend to read the paper, Harry got up and exited the room.

He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall next to Malfoy’s door. That had been his second almost civil conversation with Malfoy in less than three days. It was strange, though, like the person in that room wasn’t Malfoy at all, or perhaps just a vague shadow of who Harry thought Malfoy had been. He was trying to figure out what had happened to Malfoy. And he was trying to figure out why he had such a compulsion to keep talking to him. Why had he felt the need to take Malfoy the paper? Why had he been unwilling to leave? Harry couldn’t figure it out. He could almost pass it off as pity, but he knew to say that would be a lie. It wasn’t pity, exactly. He just couldn’t place what it was.

OooOooO

Draco couldn’t decide if he wished Potter would stop bothering him or if he wished Potter would bother him more. He had passed the point of grieving where he wanted to stay in seclusion, but he wasn’t excited that his only other option for company was the Weasley family. And Potter had been acting very differently around him. Draco had almost been disappointed when Potter left so quickly earlier.

He stayed in the room for the rest of the day. Mrs. Weasley brought him up dinner, but he found that he didn’t have an appetite. The knowledge that his parents’ funeral would be the next day, and that he couldn’t possibly attend, was weighing on him heavily.

He was lying in the bed staring at the ceiling in a position that had become all too familiar to him. The rest of the house had turned in for the night hours before, but sleep had been lost on him. Around 3 in the morning, or so he assumed, his lack of dinner finally caught up with him, and he decided to go down to the kitchen, noting that his legs were exceptionally stiff. He cursed the Weasley’s for having taken his wand as he made his way down the stairs of the dark house, trying to make out faint outlines, and thinking that this venture had perhaps been a very bad idea.

This thought was confirmed when he opened the kitchen door and found, “Potter.”

Potter looked up from his seat at the table and started at Draco with a look kin to disbelief. He took no measures to hide his expression as he replied, “Malfoy” with a slight incline of his head. They stared at each other silently and Draco stepped forward letting the door shut behind him.

“Why are you down here?” Draco asked, feeling foolish. He was curious though, and annoyed that Potter had managed to come downstairs without him hearing. He looked at him more closely and noticed that, even in the dim light of Potter’s wand on the table, the shadows under his eyes were still easily visible. He wondered if this was how he spend every night.

“I, er, I’ve been having some trouble sleeping. And Ron snores pretty loudly so I thought I’d come down here for some quiet.” Potter said. Draco thought that he sounded as tired as he looked.

“Yes, well, I’ll just get what I need and be out of your way then.” Draco replied. Potter nodded and looked down at his hands on the table. Draco crossed the room quickly to a tray on the counter bearing an assortment of pastries and pies, but before he could take one and exit Potter spoke again.

“Look Malfoy, I’ve been wondering, and I guess you don’t have to tell me, but, um, are you really on our side now?”

Draco stopped. Was he? Now that his parents were gone, was there any point in keeping his word. The Order hadn’t been able to fulfill their end of the bargain. And he didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to be a part of anyone’s war. It didn’t matter which side he was on or what he believed, he had seen enough. He just wanted to be done. Draco realized that Potter was still sitting there, waiting for a response, but he didn’t have one to give. When Potter realized he wasn’t going to get an answer, he tried something different. 

“Why are you here?”

“I’m here because I’m hungry, Potter, so if you don’t mind…” Draco said shortly as he reached for a pastry, hoping to make a quick exit. Potter wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be a git, Malfoy, you know that’s not what I meant.” He looked angry. He sat back in his chair and eyes Draco suspiciously.

“I’m here because I was sent here.” Draco responded.

“Why?” Potter shot back at him. Draco was starting to get angry. Why was he even participating in this discussion? He could just grab his food and leave, simple as that.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Draco said sarcastically. Potter stood from his seat.

“By who?”

Draco swallowed hard. _My parents. And now they’re dead. Because of me._ He didn’t want to be doing this. “I don’t know.”

“I think you’re lying.” Potter said. Draco’s hands were starting to shake again. He sneered at Potter and made an attempt to leave sans food but Potter blocked him, stepping closer.

“Whose side are you on Malfoy?” Potter asked harshly, now standing less than a meter away.

“I DON’T KNOW POTTER!” Draco finally exploded. “I don’t fucking know. The only reason I even said I would join your side is because that stupid fucking werewolf said you could keep my parents safe!” Draco shouted. “He said they would be protected and now they’re dead!” Draco glared at Potter, who looked stunned. Draco assumed the werewolf must not have told them anything about their meetings.

“They died before the Order could do anything to protect them.” Potter countered quietly. “There wasn’t anything that they could have done!”

“DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!” Draco nearly screamed. He paused, and continued in a quieter voice. “I know. I know they couldn’t have done anything. But that doesn’t change anything. I was in this for my parents.” He said, his voice getting louder again. “I was in it for them, to protect them, and now they’re dead, and it’s my fault! I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do.”

“What do you mean it’s your fault? Malfoy, what happened…” Potter asked, looking almost scared. Still, he didn’t back away from Draco, and held his gaze steadily.

Draco was stunned silent. He hadn’t meant to say that. But then, for some reason, words were pouring from his mouth before he could think about what he was doing.

“I disappointed the Dark Lord. I couldn’t do something he asked me to do, so in return he killed my parents! I acted like a complete coward. If I had only been able to ki-…complete my task then my parents would still be alive. It’s completely my fault! And, I can’t even go to their fucking funeral because, apparently, I’m supposed to be dead too!” He was pacing the floor, looking down at his feet. “I don’t remember much of what happened. I was… _He_ used cruciatus on me and I heard my mother screaming, and then I was here. That’s all I remember. And I don’t know who sent me here, or why, I really just don’t know.”

Draco finished his rant and leaned against the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, in complete disbelief that he had just bared his soul to _Potter_ , of all people. He tried to summon the courage to look up, but before he could he felt a warm hand rest on his arm. He flinched.

“Malfoy.” Potter said seriously. “You didn’t kill your parents. Voldemort killed your parents.” Draco flinched again. “It doesn’t matter what you did. You are not responsible. If they died trying to save you…” Draco heard Potter’s voice catch and finally looked up. Potter was standing closer than he realized, and his green eyes were bright and burning into his own. “That was their choice too. It’s no one’s fault but Voldemort’s.” Potter took his arm away and looked at Draco for a second more before turning and leaving Draco alone in the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally have some good Draco/Harry communication going on. I've been so excited to write this chapter, so I hope you guys liked reading it! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting, I really appreciate all your feedback!


	9. Chapter 9

After leaving Malfoy in the kitchen he had returned to Ron's bedroom, careful not to wake him, and lay on his cot with his mind racing for the remainder of the night. He hadn't managed to ever fall asleep, and he knew his lack of sleep was plainly visible on his face.

Harry hadn't told anyone about his run in with Malfoy the previous night. Before learning about the fate of his parents, they had been unsure of whether they could trust Malfoy's word, and since learning about his parents Harry had been the only one to truly speak with him. He didn't know where everyone else stood when it came to Malfoy now. But Malfoy's confession had shaken him to his core. Harry had spent a considerable portion of his night thinking about the horrible weight Malfoy had been carrying, the pain he must be feeling. It made him feel sick.

He hadn't touched any of the food Mrs. Weasley had generously heaped onto his plate. He supposed the extra food was due to his appearance, but he couldn't stomach the thought of eating. He picked at it with a fork, while she, Hermione, and Ginny shot worried glances at him. He hardly noticed. He had also been thinking a lot about something Malfoy had said the night before. _The only reason I even said I would join your side is because that stupid fucking werewolf said you could keep my parents safe._ That must have been what he kept meeting with Lupin about. His parents. Harry's stomach knotted again as he tried to imagine what Malfoy must be feeling. Lupin hadn't stopped by since the morning they found out about the Malfoys. Harry wasn't sure when he was going to come by next before the wedding, but Harry was sure that he needed to speak with him.

Mr. Weasley rose from the table, gave his wife a kiss on the cheek, and was about to leave the house for work. Harry stood up too. "Mr. Weasley, can I talk to you for a minute?" he said. Mr. Weasley looked down at his watch.

"All right, Harry, but let's make it quick." He gestured towards the door and they walked outside.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said again when they had walked a safe distance from the house. "Last night I ran into Malfoy in the kitchen, and we...er...talked some about his parents."

"Indeed." Mr. Weasley said, looking intrigued and more alert than he had a moment before. Harry's hands felt sweaty and he tried to discreetly wipe them on his pants.

"Yeah, and, well, I'll just get to it shall I? I need to talk to Remus. I think Malfoy really is genuine about not wanting to be on their side, but right now he's just going through so much and..."

Mr. Weasley held up a hand. "I understand Harry. I'll see if I can contact him and have him come as soon as he can." Harry nodded, feeling somewhat hot around his neck and in his face. Mr. Weasley started to walk away from Harry towards the apparition point. Just before he left, he turned back to look at Harry with a curious expression.

Harry re-entered the Burrow expecting all eyes to be on him, preparing himself to answer the questions he was certain would be asked. Instead, he re-entered the Burrow and found everyone's attention drawn towards the other side of the room. He let his eyes follow the direction of their gaze, and was astounded when they landed on Malfoy.

Malfoy was staring back at him, face flushed, looking wary. Harry could tell he was wondering whether Harry had mentioned anything to the Weasleys about the previous night, and Harry tried to tell him with a subtle shake of his head that (mostly) he hadn't. Harry didn't know how long Malfoy had been in the kitchen, and decided to break the tension before it could grow any thicker.

"Morning Malfoy." He said simply, returning to his seat at the table. Everyone's heads jerked in his direction, not having realized that he had come back in the house. Harry could feel Malfoy's eyes following him, burning into his head.

"Yes, good morning Draco, dear." Mrs. Weasley said in a kind yet hesitant voice. It was like a weight was lifted from Harry when Malfoy's eyes finally left him and flicked up to Mrs. Weasley. "Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you." Malfoy responded. Now it was Harry's turn to watch him. He observed that, other than Malfoy obviously getting no more sleep than Harry had been, he was still looking better, healthier. It made the weight in Harry's chest lift just slightly.

Malfoy sat at the end of the table, as far from the rest of them as he could. He lifted his gaze to meet Harry's, but quickly looked away again when Mrs. Weasley started shoveling food on his plate in a similar way as she had done with Harry's. Harry watched for a minute longer as Malfoy picked up his fork and started to slowly take small bites of his eggs, but then he attention was diverted as Mrs. Weasley tried to take the focus off their new guest.

"Harry, dear, I wanted to talk to you about your birthday plans." she said. It took Harry a little too long to catch up to what she was saying and remember that his birthday was only two days away.

"Er, okay." Harry responded, feeling heat rise uncomfortably in his face again and not being sure why.

"Well, I'm sorry to say it wont be a very big affair, what with the wedding being the next day. We were planning to just have a few extra people come, Remus and Tonks, and just have a small party in the evening."

"Okay." Harry said yet again.

"Is there anything in particular you would like to have for dinner, or any flavor you would like for your cake?"

"Oh, um, thanks Mrs. Weasley, but I don't want you to go to any trouble. I'm fine with anything, really." Harry said, his eyes darting back to Malfoy. His eyes were glinting with mirth at Harry's obvious discomfort, and a small smirk was playing on his lips. It was the most Harry had seen him look like his old self in months, and Harry was surprised by an urge to smile. He scowled instead.

"Harry, it's honestly no trouble. We can't do much, but we want to do what we can." Mrs. Weasley responsed, pressing on. Harry resigned himself to coming up with something he could tell her. In all honestly, he didn't care one bit what they ate for his birthday, but he didn't want to hurt Mrs. Weasley's feelings by neglecting her the opportunity to coddle him.

"Really, Mrs. Weasley, anything you make will be perfect, all your cooking is wonderful." He said. She beamed at him, and he blushed, if possible, more deeply as he continued. "But, um, a chocolate cake would be good, I guess."

"Well, a chocolate cake it is then!" She said, still smiling. Her smile dropped just slightly and her expression became unsure as she turned to Malfoy. "And, Draco, you are of course welcome to join us for everything we do here."

Harry met Malfoy's eyes again as his smirk became more pronounced. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, of course I wouldn't miss _Harry's_ birthday." Harry glared at him openly, and Malfoy returned to his food. Harry could hear Ron and Hermione whispering to each other next to him, and knew that he was going to have to talk to them soon.

As it turned out, "soon" meant that Harry was going to be ambushed immediately after breakfast.

Ron and Hermione tried to corner him in the den, just outside the kitchen, but Harry, surrendering himself, motioned for them to follow him up to Ron's room for some privacy.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione said the second the door to Ron's room had closed. "Malfoy's been holed up in his room for days and suddenly he's joining us for meals again and acting differently."

"Well, it's not really different, exactly, more like..." Ron started.

"His old self." Hermione finished.

"And the way you were staring at each other at breakfast," Ron said, Harry frowned. "Mate, did something happen?"

Harry stood looking at his two best friends, and tried to decide the best way to phrase what he knew he had to tell them. _Malfoy thinks he's responsible for killing his parents._ They stared back anxiously, each second adding increasing amounts of worry to Hermione's expression. He decided to start from the begging, when Malfoy had entered the kitchen last night.

"Last night I couldn't sleep, so I went down to the kitchen for some water and time to clear my head a bit. And, Ron was snoring." Based on their expressions his attempt at levity was ill received, so he continued. "After a while Malfoy came into the kitchen." He stopped when their expressions rapidly changed from annoyance to intrigue. "I know. Anyways, we kinda talked a little I guess. Well, we argued. I called him a liar and wanted to know whose side he's really on."

"Good for you mate." Ron interjected. Hermione shot him a look that plainly said _be quiet_. Harry continued.

"He, um, well, he got mad and kind of exploded. He confirmed that Voldemort tortured him. He told me that Lupin had promised the Order would protect his parents. And he thinks he's responsible for them dying because of something he did...or...I guess didn't do...I'm not really sure. He, er, he was pretty upset. I'm surprised his shouting didn't wake up the entire house, actually."

Hermione's face had quickly changed from shock to horror as Harry spoke, and Ron looked unsure of how to feel. Harry gave them a minute to process the new information.

"Oh, Harry, what did you say? That's awful. I know I can't stand Malfoy but to think you're the reason your parents are dead..." Hermione trailed off, looking close to tears.

Ron cleared his throat. "So, what did you say?"

"Well, I told him-" Harry started, but was cut off by Mrs. Weasley knocking on the door.

"Harry, dear, Remus is here saying he wants to speak with you." She called through the door.

"Oh. Tell him I'll be right down?" Harry answered. He turned back to his friends. "I asked your dad this morning to send Lupin over so we could talk. Look, I'll finish telling you everything later?" They nodded, and he headed out the door and down the stairs.

Lupin was waiting for him in the den and suggested they go outside for some additional privacy. When they had walked nearly to the edge of the wards Lupin turned to face Harry. "So," he began, "you spoke with Malfoy last night."

"Yes," Harry said. He began telling the story again, like he had with Ron and Hermione, taking time to examine Lupin's expression as he did so. Lupin, however, gave very little away as he listened. When he was done, Lupin spoke again.

"Well, Harry, I must say I'm surprised he confided all this in you." Harry couldn't help but agree, and nodded his head. "But I want to ask, do you think Malfoy was being honest with you?"

Harry didn't hesitate as he answered, "Yes." and his voice was stronger with conviction that he expected. Lupin looked surprised. Harry continued, "Do you remember when you were trying to convince us to trust him? And you said something about just being able to tell? Well, that's how I feel. I don't know why, but I really think he was telling the truth." He stopped, and saw that Lupin was almost smiling at him.

"I know what you mean, Harry."

Harry paused for a second, "I think Malfoy really does want to join our side. I know he said it was for his parents, but even without them...I don't think he'd go back to Voldemort after..." He looked down at his feet as he trailed off.

"I agree with you, Harry. I'm glad you are seeing this change in him too, especially considering your past...disagreements." Lupin said. Harry looked up at him. He didn't know exactly what else to say except...

"You should talk to him."

Lupin sighed. "I know. I plan to. Will you ask him to join me out here?"

"Er, well, he can't leave the house." Harry said.

"Of course." Lupin replied, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I suppose we'll talk in the kitchen. Would you mind finding him and telling him I would like us to speak?"

"Okay." Harry said, and they walked back to the Burrow together. When they entered the kitchen Lupin stayed, and Harry ventured off to Malfoy's room.

He stood outside the door and took a breath. "Malfoy," he called, knocking twice on the door. He heard shuffling inside, and the door opened quicker than he had been expecting.

"Potter." Malfoy replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Malfoy was standing rather close to Harry. Harry thought that he should perhaps take a step back, but he didn't want to appear intimidated. Instead, Harry found himself staring into Malfoy's steel grey eyes, felt his palms start to sweat again, and felt heat start to creep up his neck. Harry could tell Malfoy was also feeling discomfort from their proximity, but he seemed equally unwilling to step back. Up close, Harry could see the flecks of blue sprinkled throughout his eyes, he make out individual strands in his pale eyelashes, and he could see the depth to the dark circles under his eyes. He felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest. Harry ran his teeth over his bottom lip and saw Malfoy mirror the action.

"Lupin is downstairs; he wants to talk to you." Harry said, his voice sounded strange, strained to his ears.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Harry wasn't sure exactly what to say, how truthful to be. He could tell Malfoy was trying to figure out how much from the previous night he had shared with others.

"Well, um, I was talking to him about your, um, your parents." Harry said trying to make his voice sound more confident, but failing as he stumbled over his words. He paused as Malfoy's eyes went wide momentarily before becoming hard, his face setting in an expressionless mask.

"Fuck you, Potter." He said quietly. Harry worried that he might retreat back in to his room, but instead he roughly brushed past Harry and quickly descended the stairs.

Harry stood for a moment, realizing he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, shook his head, and took the stairs two-at-a-time back to Ron's room so he could finish catching his friends up on everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, here we have an all Harry chapter. I felt like I wasn't getting enough of his POV, and wanted to dedicate some time to him. The next chapter is going to be all about Harry's birthday, but mostly from Draco's POV, so be ready for that soon!


	10. Chapter 10

Draco descended the stairs, his gut twisted in an unusual combination of trepidation and rage. He was mad at Potter, of course. Fucking Potter just had to go and run his mouth off to everyone. But more than that he was furious with himself for telling Potter anything in the first place. He still couldn't even figure out why he had done it, what had possessed him to go baring his soul to Potter, of all people, in the middle of the night. As desperately as he wished he could chalk it up to grief or insomnia, he also couldn't lie to himself that easily. Some part of him had truly felt like he could trust Potter.

He was going mental locked up here with all these Order people.

All these Order people who were now going to be looking at him, their cautious eyes filled with artificial sympathy. He didn't want their sympathy. He didn't want anything to do with them. He wanted to leave, to go mourn his parents. He wanted to have gone to their funeral. He wanted to go back and tell Potter to fuck off, maybe throw in a punch for good measure. He wanted to give his mother another hug. He wanted to erase every meeting he'd had with the werewolf, so he could take away all the false hope that he had let himself feel. Hell, he wanted to go back and just kill that woman if it meant he was still with his parents.

His breath caught. He stopped, having just reached the bottom of the stairs outside the kitchen door. The thought had run wildly through his head in an fluid stream of consciousness that he had not been prepared for. Would he really have killed her? If he had, he never would have come here. He imagined himself, sitting around the table at the Manor, the Dark Lord hissing plans to his followers, some nameless, faceless muggle now suspended above the table. He, himself, sitting between his alive mother and father, with the full knowledge that he was a murderer. Knowing that he would have to be a murderer again. And again.

A murderer.

He couldn't be a murderer to save himself, he'd proven that already, but could he be a murderer to save his parents? Would his parents have wanted him to kill to save their lives?

Potter's words from the night before drifted into his mind. _If they died trying to save you..._

But, Draco thought, they wouldn't have needed to save me if I had been able to follow orders.

_It doesn't matter what you did._

Draco pushed open the door to the kitchen, trying to get Potter's voice out of his head. The conviction, the sincerity with which Potter had spoken still ringing clearly in his thoughts.

"Hello Draco." The werewolf looked ill-at-ease leaning against the kitchen counter. Each time Draco saw him, he couldn't help but be surprised at his shabby appearance, as if he always forgot exactly how bad he looked. "I'm sorry to have been away for so long. I should have come sooner to speak with you about your parents."

Draco shrugged his shoulders, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Lupin wasn't deterred by Draco's silence. "I'm very sorry about the other morning when you found out. We should have told you in private, explained the situation. Draco, please understand that none of us knew until that morning, only minutes before you did yourself. We had no intention of..."

Draco found his thoughts drifting while the werewolf went on his monologue. _It doesn't matter what you did._ The fuck it doesn't matter, Potter. _It was their choice_. But they wouldn't have had to make that choice if-. _You are not responsible_. Well I didn't cast-. _Voldemort killed your parents._ I know that P-. _It's no one's fault but Voldemort's._

"I understand you've been talking to Harry."

Draco stiffened at the mention of Potter's name, his eyes snapping into focus on Lupin who was standing closer than he remembered. He had to fight the urge to take a step back. "Yeah, we've run into each other a few times." Draco could hear the sourness in his voice, and he could tell the werewolf didn't miss it either.

"Hmm. I was surprised when we spoke earlier. But, Draco, I do not think you are wrong to trust him. Harry-"

"Trust him?" Draco repeated incredulously, cutting him off. "I tell him one thing last night and this morning the whole bloody house knows. How fucking trustworthy."

Lupin thought for a while before replying, staring intensely into Draco's eyes. Draco almost faltered under the gaze, more piercing and knowing than he would like.

"I need to go, so I'll make this brief. Harry has been through a great deal more than most people ever will suffer or understand. And, despite it, Harry has a nearly unrivaled ability to care about others and look for the good in them. I wont say that, in this instance, he was necessarily right. But, what you are seeing as a betrayal of trust, Harry may see as an extension to compassion. Let me rephrase: You are wrong not to trust him. Maybe try to talk with him again." Lupin spoke in a carefully measured voice, and when he finished he nodded to Draco and departed the Burrow.

 _It's no one's fault but Voldemort's._ Potter's words, again, entered his thoughts.

As Draco stood in the empty kitchen, it was like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle had finally been pressed into place. Voldemort asked him to kill that woman, the woman he never could have killed. Voldemort tortured him. Voldemort decided his parents love for their son equated a death sentence. Voldemort killed his parents.

It was Voldemort's fault.

He was furious.

Furious with himself for his naivety, furious with Voldemort for everything, furious with Saint Potter for being right, Draco stormed out of the kitchen, went straight to his room, and slammed the door behind him.

Later, when a knock came to his door, he knew it was Potter. He knew by the sound and weight of the footsteps as then came up the stairs, he knew by the hesitation that preceded the knock, and he knew by the pattern of the knock at his door. He didn't even wait for Potter to announce himself.

"Sod off, Potter."

"Malfoy, I just need to...there's something...come downstairs with me for a few minutes?"

Draco was surprised, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued. Potter hadn't just said "come downstairs", he'd said, "come downstairs _with me."_ But, he wasn't giving in that easily. He got up and walked a little closer to the door, grateful that no floorboards squeaked under his feet to announce his movements.

"Try again, Potter."

"I want to show you something downstairs. It'll only take a minute." Potter's voice sounded different, and it was nowhere near his self-assured, confident voice from the night before. Draco walked to the door and edged it open. Potter was standing there, looking down at his hands, picking at his nails. Draco noticed more than one of them was bleeding, and wondered how long he had been doing it. Potter looked up after the door had fully opened and, noticing Draco's gaze, shoved his hands quickly in his pockets. "Right, come on then." Potter said, and turned to walk away.

Draco followed roughly five paces behind him. Draco expected Potter to walk him to the kitchen, but Potter turned instead and went through the den to a door on the opposite side. Draco let his eyes wander over his surroundings, realizing that he hadn't truly been in the room since he first came here. He thought about that night and a shiver ran down his spine. He felt somewhat dizzy. His eyes traveled back to Potter who was standing next to the door looking apprehensive. Draco recognized it as the door he had tried to leave through his first morning at the Burrow. His eyes narrowed. Potter was watching him cautiously.

"Mr. Weasley and I talked some after he came home today." Potter started. Draco's rage rose again. He knew where Potter was going now. He started to leave

"Merlin, Potter, did you tell every fucking..."

"No. No, Malfoy. Listen." There was a kind of hidden desperation is Potter's voice that made Draco stop. "We talked some about how you haven't really been outside since you got here. Mostly you've been in your room."

"Because you lot warded me into this house!" Draco responded hotly. But an excited curiosity was edging out his anger.

"Well, yes. But, today Mr. Weasley adjusted the wards. He finished just a few minutes ago."

Draco let these words sink in for a few seconds. Finally, he spoke tentatively, not wanting to come across as being too eager, and not wanting to feel let down if he was wrong.

"I can go outside?"

Potter actually smiled. Not a shy smile, not a hidden smile. Draco felt the corner of his mouth twitch in return.

"Yes. Only to the boundary of the existing wards. But yes." Potter opened the door and stepped outside. Draco, in a kind of trance, followed him.

He hadn't realized how much he had missed the sunlight on his skin. The day was warm, nearly cloudless, a day so rarely perfect it was almost blinding, surreal. The air smelled of grass and hay, and sunlight. He stopped, a few meters outside the confining walls of the house, and stood, simply staring in awe at the landscape that surrounded him. The grounds at the Manor had always been immaculately maintained, planted, and pruned, their beauty indisputable. But here, here he was in awe of a different kind of beauty, a kind that radiated peace and contentment, where nothing was perfect and so almost everything was, careless, innocent, and freeing. And in the midst of it his eyes found Potter, looking back at him with the smile still playing on his lips, and Draco's throat went curiously dry. His smile soon faded, and he took a few steps towards Draco.

"Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have betrayed your confidence like that. Ron and Hermione are my best mates, they knew something was up, and I can't lie to them. And I really didn't tell anyone else exactly...except Lupin...but...and I thought maybe you'd like a place to go that wasn't your room." Potter was picking at his hands again. Draco nodded at him. They stood there a minute longer, not quite looking at each other, when Potter said, "Dinner will be in about an hour." With that he strode past Draco to re-enter the house, and Draco muttered a quiet "alright" which he wasn't sure Potter heard.

He walked to a tree nearby, still within the perimeter of the wards, and leaned against the trunk, once again taking in his surroundings. He took another breath of the clean, sweet air, and was surprised when he realized that he had already forgiven Potter.

OooOooO

Draco spent the majority of the next few days outside, basking in the glory of warm days, sunshine, and solitude. No one ever came to bother him when he was outside, not that they had ever bothered him inside intentionally, but outside he found a kind of peacefulness that had been absent in his life for longer than he could remember. Outside he took time to look at his surroundings and appreciate his relative freedom. He watched the chickens curiously as they interacted with each other, and he watched as some gnomes walked a worn path under a hedge into the garden. He examined the plants contained within the garden itself, some magical, some not. He walked through patches of flowers that grew, and he stopped short when he came across a group of daffodils. _Narcissus_. He stood gazing at the flowers and allowed himself to mourn, crouching down and picking only one. The one that was the palest white with a fiery orange center. The one that he would have picked for his own mother, because they were her favorite.

Outside, Draco began to find the dawning of resolution, and his heart began to feel a little less heavy.

Potter's birthday dinner was soon. The Weasleys had come outside to start setting up tables, and they were making somewhat of a spectacle of the ordeal, so Draco decided to wait out the time in his room. He hadn't really seen Potter since he'd received his freedom from house imprisonment, and he was almost apprehensive about the evenings events. He felt like he was in Potter's debt, and he didn't know how he could possibly repay it. It was such a small thing, being outside, but it had done so much for him already.

He was on the floor below his own when he lost his footing and stumbled clumsily into the door next to him. The door, instead of providing him with a steady surface, then proceeded to bang open and leave Draco sprawled on the floor in a strange room. He heard faint murmurs that sounded like _oh shit_ and _what the hell_ and, realizing he wasn't alone looked up to see Potter and the Weaslette standing, closely embraced. Potter's hands were even threaded in her hair. Draco's eyes widened, realizing what he had just interrupted, but he felt curiously lost for words. Heat started rising in his face.

"Shit, Malfoy, are you alright?" Potter asked, untangling himself from the Weaslette and approaching him. Draco quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Fine, Potter." was all he managed. He felt incredibly foolish. In an attempt to save face he managed to give the Weaslette his best sneer, which she impressively returned, before striding out of the room to nurse both his ankle and his ego.

OooOooO

Dinner, Harry thought, had gone by very smoothly. Lupin and Tonks had been the only additional guests, which meant that Malfoy had attended the party without any form of disguise. Lupin had greeted him warmly, if warily, and Tonks had greeted him stiffly. Harry remembered with a start that they were actually cousins, and he wondered if Malfoy really even knew who she was.

They had sat and eaten and laughed. His interactions with Ginny were still tense, and he could sense Hermione's unasked questions on the tip of her tongue. He shouldn't have kissed her.

He spent a lot of time during dinner thinking about the Scrimgeour's strange appearance earlier that day, and the items Dumbledore had left he, Ron, and Hermione in his will.  _I open at the close_. What was that supposed to mean?

His gaze found its way to Malfoy regularly throughout the dinner, watching him attempt small talk with Remus and Mr. Weasley, watching him gaze at his plate with a frustrated expression, watching his face flush after briefly meeting Harry's gaze, and watching him steadily avoid eye contact from that point on.

It was like Malfoy was a magnet, and Harry couldn't stop his eyes from being directed to him.

Remus and Tonks had left. Harry had opened his gifts. They were in the den conversing, nearing the time to head to bed. Harry was surprised that Malfoy hadn't gone up to his room. He was sitting in an armchair on the emptier side of the room, looking around with a bored expression. Harry swallowed, and went over to him, Malfoy's eyes finding his and staring at him the whole way.

"Hey."

Malfoy nodded his greeting.

"Did you...er..."Harry faltered. What was he doing over here?

"Enjoy myself? Not as much as I think you did." Malfoy said with a smirk starting.

"How's the ankle?"Harry shot back. Malfoy flushed.

"Fine, thank you."

They stood in silence.

"Your birthday was recently, right?" Harry asked, desperate to say something.

"Yes." Malfoy replied. Harry could see his expression become guarded. He proceeded anyway.

"What was it like? I mean, your family surely..." Harry started, but trailed off as hostility started to overcome Malfoy's features.

"My birthday? On my _birthday_ the Dark Lord told me that my gift was to torture muggles. Finally, I can use magic at home, and what do I get to do with it? Happy fucking birthday." Malfoy spoke in a quiet hiss, his eyes hard with hostility. He turned, and briskly went up the stairs. Distantly, Harry heard a door slam.

He stood in thought for a moment before an impulse overcame him. He walked towards the other side of the room and asked Mr. Weasley to join him in the kitchen.

"Mr. Weasley, I think we should give Malfoy back his wand."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while. Some life stuff came up including traveling and short-notice moving (in-progress). So, it may be another week or two before the next chapter gets posted (you'll be warned this time). Hope everyone enjoyed this one! Almost time for the wedding.


	11. Chapter 11

At first, Mr. Weasley didn't say anything. He stared at Harry with open confusion, and a hint of worry. Harry stared back with the best look of conviction and sincerity he could hope to convey.

"What, er, what brought this on?" Mr. Weasley asked. Harry saw his eyes flick towards the chair Malfoy had been in and up towards the room where he was residing.

"It's hard to explain." Harry responded. They were silent for another moment.

Mr. Weasley started tentatively. "Harry, please understand I mean well when I ask this, are you drunk?"

Harry knew exactly what he meant. His question was practically outlandish, unthinkable. To let a known Death Eater, who had only been under their care for a few short weeks, have his wand? He knew it was reckless, and quite possibly stupid, but he also had a strong feeling that he was right. And, Harry had learned to trust himself about these things more often than not.

"No, Mr. Weasley. I promise. It's just, I was talking to Malfoy just now and..."

A knowing look overtook Mr. Weasley's face. He raised his hand to signal Harry that he understood what was about to be said. "Ah, Harry. You've been spending a lot of time with Draco lately. I know you want to see the best in him, as you do with everybody. It's who you are. But, Harry." He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I think you are beginning to lose sight of the real situation. You may not see it, but he could still pose a very serious threat to us."

"I don't think that's true. Malfoy needs us to trust him, and if we do he will trust us in return. I know you think he could be a threat, I do, and I understand, but you are wrong. I have been talking to him, and been getting to know him. I used to hate Malfoy, we've never gotten along. He's always been rotten and rude, unpleasant, and a bully. But that's not who he is now. You didn't know him as well before, but surely you can see it too? I've talked to Lupin as well...not about this specifically, but I know he would agree with me. Malfoy has been through...he...he's not going back to them. Not after...his parents."

"Not right now, Harry." Mr. Weasley said, in an attempt to end the conversation. Harry considered that Mr. Weasley still might think him drunk. He certainly wasn't acting like himself.

"Just, just talk to Lupin tomorrow, before the wedding." Harry said, pleading, in a final attempt to win him over. "Mr. Weasley, he said something to be tonight, and I can't say what, but I promise you, if we allow him to have his wand the last thing he would do is use it for Dark magic."

"We'll see." Mr. Malfoy said with finality, before leaving Harry to rejoin his family.

OooOooO

The morning of the wedding was, in a word, chaos. Fleur's parents were due to arrive by 10, and it was currently a quarter after 9. Mrs. Weasley had all her children, Harry and Hermione included, doing last minute chores and tasks to ensure everything was in spotless order for their arrival. Her sharp eyes caught and quickly corrected their every mistake. There was only one thing, it seemed, that she had forgotten.

"Oh, Draco!" She said too loudly, with an edge of hysterics. "Come here quickly. Mr. and Mrs. Delacour will be here any moment. It's unlikely they would recognize you, but we simply can't take any chances."

Draco moved towards Mrs. Weasley quickly, sensing that now was not a time to cross the typically kind woman. She studied him carefully, walking around him and looking him over from head to toe, before firing off multiple charms in quick succession. When she had first raised her wand, Draco had tensed his body and shut his eyes tightly, forgetting where he was and feeling wild panic rise in his chest. Now that he felt the magic flow over him, though, he remembered where he was. It wasn't cold, dark, or painful. Instead, Mrs. Weasley's charm emitted a kind of warmth and security, a magical signature strongly reminiscent of his first step outside. He felt his hair shorten, and he could feel a small shift in some of the features of his face.

"...And we'll have to get you something more suitable to wear. I'm sure Bill has a spare set of dress robes somewhere. Or we could try and transfigure something." Draco realized that Mrs. Weasley must have been prattling the entire time. With the charm-work completed, he raised a hand to his face, felt his features, and ran his fingers through his shorter, coarser hair. Mrs. Weasley gave him a final nod of approval before turning and heading up the stairs to find him a change of clothes.

Draco looked around for a mirror, finding one above a table in the den. His face was rounder, his typically sharp features obscured by magic. His hair was short and, to his complete horror, bright red. His eyes were rounder and a lackluster blue, and an odd smattering of freckles lay on the bridge of his nose. And, while his appearance left much to be desired, he knew that he was completely unrecognizable as Draco Malfoy.

"Mrs. Weasley got you then?" A familiar, amused voice said behind him. Potter stood across the room, arms folded, leaning against the doorway, giving Draco an obvious once-over with his eyes. Smirking, he said, "Well, no one will think you could possibly be the presumed-dead Draco Malfoy, that's for sure. She's going to do me later. I passed her in the hall. She forgot to tell you that your name's going to be Arnold. And I'll be Barney, for the wedding. We're both supposed to just say we're cousins, and hope nobody calls our bluff."

"The Weasleys breed like rabbits, I doubt anyone will think twice." Draco muttered in response, bitterly. Potter frowned in response.

"That is the general idea, yes." Draco watched as Potter put his hands in his pockets, looking contemplative. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted when Granger entered the room.

"Harry, and, er...Malfoy?" She said. Draco nodded. Granger's eyes rolled over him in the same way Potter's had, Draco tensed in irritation. She shrugged and continued. "The Delacours are arriving, we need to go meet them in the front lawn." She appraised Draco once more, and, grabbing Harry's hand, headed to the lawn. Draco grudgingly followed.

The majority of the afternoon went by in a blur. Draco found himself following Mrs. Weasley's instructions without hesitation as they finished arranging the lawn for the wedding. He set up chairs carried heaping plates of food, and aided in greeting guests, all the while wondering how any of it was happening and why he didn't seem to mind. It was surreal.

During the ceremony he sat next to Potter, disguised as his cousin Barney Weasley. As expected, no one looked at either of them twice when they introduced themselves. He did think, however, that Potter's obvious doe-eyed expression towards the She-Weasel, his supposed cousin, would blow his cover.

"You should know,  _Barney_ , that most people don't look at their cousins that way." He muttered to Potter, giving a satisfied smirk when Potter blushed scarlet.

It was in the middle of the vows that something small in Draco snapped. This was Bill's wedding. Bill Weasley's wedding. The same Bill Weasley that had been attacked by Fenrir Greyback a few months prior because of Draco, who was permanently scarred because of Draco. The same Bill Weasley who had then let the same Draco sleep in his room, wear his clothes, attend his wedding...

"You should know,  _Arnold_ , that most people..."

"Piss off." Draco muttered, quickly looking down at his hands, feeling Potter shake softly with silent laughter beside him. He'd felt guilt burning his gut. He'd been so arrogant, so ignorant to his surroundings, stuck in his own head, drowning in his grief, not appreciating the sacrifices others had made for him. Others who owed him absolutely nothing. He looked up at Bill again, taking in his scarred face. He looked to Fleur, radiant in her beauty, awed by the expression of undying love she held for that face. He felt ashamed.

The ceremony flowed easily into the reception. Guests gathered around him, drinking, dancing, laughing. Draco stayed on the outskirts, worried that he would give himself away if he spoke with the wrong Weasley. Which, really, was any Weasley. Every few minutes he found his gaze drawn to Bill, smiling, talking to his family and friends, holding his wife's hand, giving her small kisses. With every glance, he felt his shame flare up again. He also found his gaze frequently wondering to the still-disguised Potter, watching as he too laughed and danced, and even spoke with some grumpy old man and batty old woman. All of it made him feel so out of place, unwelcome, and he slowly made his way father away from the crowd.

"Hello Draco Malfoy." A serene voice said from beside him. He spun around in alarm, eyes wide, and found himself looking down on a girl with wide blue eyes and waist-length blonde hair. Her expression was dreamy with a mild hint of surprise. She looked familiar, but he didn't know from where.

"I'm sorry." Draco replied, talking quickly, panic rising. He took a step back, ready to escape. "I'm sorry but you have the wrong person. My name's Arnold. Arnold Weasley."

"Is that so?" She asked, looking over his shoulder now, seeming completely unconcerned. Her body was swaying to the music with an unconscious rhythm."I guess you must be disguised like Harry. I was talking to him earlier. I'm glad you aren't dead. Everyone thinks you are."

She spoke in a matter-of-fact manner that completely contradicted her voice and expression. She looked to meet his gaze. He stared back at a loss for words.

"Don't worry," she continued. "I won't tell anyone. I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way. It's ok that you don't remember me. We met two years ago year when you captured us after our DA meeting and took us to Umbridge's office. She wasn't very nice. You weren't very nice either. But you seem nicer now."

Draco continued to stare at her. Luna Lovegood. He did remember now. She was one of those heroic morons who went with Potter to the Ministry the night his father was arrested. He expected this memory to awaken some hidden anger or resentment towards the girl, but instead he simply felt empty.

"I, er, I...how do you?" He started, but was unwilling to openly admit that he was indeed Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, just your expression," she said simply, as if anyone could figure it out. He was about to respond when she continued. "I saw you looking at Harry. You should see if he wants to dance. You haven't danced all night. Goodbye Arnold." She walked away still swaying to the music, leaving Draco completely baffled. Ask Potter to dance? He looked around, and saw Potter sitting at a table with Viktor Krum, both of them looking exceptionally surly, Potter's gaze fixed on the Weaslette. He scowled, and his eyes moved to find Bill. For the first time that night he was standing by himself, Fleur off dancing, and before Draco knew what he was doing his legs were carrying him across the lawn.

He was still a few steps away when Bill noticed him. At first, his brow was furrowed in confusion, but understanding soon dawned on his face along with a guarded expression.

"Bill?" Draco said, feeling foolish. "Er, congratulations."

"Thank you," Bill responded, sounding suspicious. Draco stood, shuffling his feet for a moment.

"I'm sorry. About...I didn't know Greyback was coming and..."

"Even without Greyback you still let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. You endangered-"

"I know!" Draco said a little too loudly. He looked up, and saw Potter's eyes on him before moving his gaze back to Bill. "I know. I just...your family has done a lot for me in the last few weeks, despite everything. I haven't properly thanked any of them. And...and I want to start with you. I am truly sorry for what I've done and..." Draco's words were cut off as a misty silver lynx appeared in the middle of the tent. The music, chatter, and laughter all stopped immediately. Bill's eyes widened as he looked frantically for his new wife and left Draco's side.

A deep voice that Draco had come to recognize emitted loudly from the patronus. "The Ministry of Magic has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

There was an additional beat of silence following the message before complete chaos broke loose. Draco stood still, suddenly frozen by fear. They were coming. They were going to get him, and torture him, and kill him. Around him people were screaming, running, disapparating, the wards had been broken. Draco still stood, wandless and defenseless, knowing he would be captured.

"Draco!" He heard his name as though from far away from his left. He slowly turned, and saw Potter's eyes wide, hand stretched out in beckoning. "Draco come on!"

He pushed his way through the crowd, stumbling, dazed, his eye's fixed on Potter's. His legs were like lead, and he willed them to move faster. He reached out his own hand, and grabbed Harry's firmly. Within the second, he felt a hook behind his navel, and his body was traveling through crushing, suffocating darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter isn't really up to my typical standard, and for that I apologize. Hopefully you all don't feel the same. Life has been complete chaos for me over the past two months. Here I was thinking this summer would be peaceful...finally done with school, a job lined up for the fall, should be smooth sailing right? Ha. Jokes on me. I've been writing this chapter on and off for the past month, and, while I'm not totally happy with it, I thought the best thing to do would be just get something out for you, and once I get back in the flow of the story things should improve. Thanks to everyone for being patient with me, and to everyone who has been reading! All feedback is appreciated, and I'll have more out for you soon. Pinky promise!


	12. Chapter 12

They landed in a dark alley, the sounds of a bustling city night in the distance. It took Harry a few seconds to get his bearings as he looked around, quickly absorbing his surroundings. In his peripheral, he saw Hermione doing the same. She gasped quietly when her eyes met Harry's.

"Harry, you look like yourself again. So do you Malfoy." She said anxiously. "The distance probably caused the charms to wear off." He saw her eyes flick downwards and back up to Harry's before turning to Ron, and Harry realized he was still holding Malfoy's hand from the apparition, and holding it rather tightly. He quickly let go, and gave an internal sigh of relief when she didn't question his decision to bring Malfoy with them, or their prolonged hand-holding.

Ron, however, who hadn't seemed to notice that Malfoy was with them, turned on them at once.

"Harry, no, you're joking. Why would you bring Malfoy?  _Malfoy?!"_ He was glaring at Malfoy, who sneered back.

"We couldn't let the Death Eaters take him, Ron." Harry countered, feeling defensive of his decision. He couldn't precisely say why he had called Malfoy's name through the chaos at the wedding. He only knew that something inside him had told him it was the right thing to do.

"Why not?" Ron shot back. "He's a Death Eater too, remember? Let them take him back."

"What so they can kill me for good this time?" Malfoy asked sarcastically, stepping up to Ron. "Do you really hate me that much, Weasley?"

At that, Ron looked slightly abashed, but he didn't relent just yet. "Harry, how are we supposed to find the-" Hermione stomped his foot. "How can we do stuff with him tagging along?"

Malfoy looked intrigued; Harry rubbed at his temples. "Look, he's here so you'll have to deal, alright? But we don't have time for this, we need to figure out what happened and what we're going to do!"

"Well." Hermione said matter-of-factly, desperate to end the argument. "The first thing is to get out of these dress robes. We'd look foolish traipsing around muggle London in these."

Harry, glad to have changed the subject, followed up. "Yeah, great. Only, we don't have any extra clothes with us."

Hermione reached for the bag that hung from her shoulder. "Actually, Harry, I've packed a few essentials. Or, well, actually I've packed almost everything."

"What, in that bag?" Ron asked, surprised.

"Undetectable expansion charm." She replied, smugly, and started rummaging around for spare clothes. "I'm afraid I don't have any clothes packed for Malfoy, though. Ron, do you think..."

"What, let the ferret wear my clothes?" Ron replied hotly. "Absolutely not!"

"You are being exceedingly unhelpful, Ronald." Hermione replied, as she produced spare clothes for herself, Harry, and Ron. "Malfoy's much taller than Harry and he certainly can't wear  _my_  clothes."

"How about you just transfigure my robes for now? If you think you can do well enough." Malfoy interjected, obviously annoyed that a conversation concerning him hadn't involved his input.

Hermione leveled her gaze at him before raising her wand. Harry saw a flash of trepidation in Malfoy's eyes as Hermione began casting her transfiguration charms, his posture screaming unease at having spells cast over him. Her spellwork was quick, and soon Malfoy was dresses in casual muggle clothing. Which, Harry thought, he never thought he'd see Malfoy wearing in a million years.

"Now turn around, ferret, so we can change." Ron said. Harry rolled his eyes, wishing Ron could give it a rest for even a minute. They'd have to talk later.

"Trust me, Weasley,  _you're_  nothing I'd want to look at." Malfoy said as he was turning around. His eyes caught Harry's for just a second too long, and Harry could swear he saw a blush creep into his pale cheeks. He quirked a curious eyebrow at Malfoy's back, and quickly changed into his muggle clothes.

"Hermione." He heard Ron groan from next to him. "These are my old jeans. They barely fit anymore."

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Next time, perhaps, you should pack your own clothes before we have to run for our lives." Hermione snapped back. Harry could tell her patience for the night was wearing thin. He also saw Malfoy's shoulders shake slightly as if he were laughing.

They were soon walking down Tottenham Court Road, Ron and Hermione in the front (she knew the area best), Harry and Malfoy behind them. Harry wished they were there under different circumstances; he'd never really been in muggle London before. As they walked, he kept looking sideways at Malfoy, realizing he'd probably never been surrounded by so many muggles before.

"I think we should stop somewhere and get out of the open. It doesn't feel safe." Hermione said, looking back at Harry.

He shrugged. "The muggles won't recognize us. Besides, it's not like Voldemort is going to swoop down on us here, in the middle of a muggle city."

"Ah, fuck." Malfoy hissed, stopping, his eyes suddenly wide in horror. "Fuck, we need to get out of here. Now" He said more loudly

"Malfoy?" Harry looked at him in concern. Malfoy's eyes were darting all around them looking for something, but for what Harry didn't know. Finally, they landed on a spot a few meters ahead.

"Come in here." He said. Harry looked over at his friends to see Ron looking perplexed and Hermione worried. He raised an eyebrow at her before turning, and she gave a short nod before grabbing Ron's arm and following them to a small, dingy late-night cafe.

Once they were all in the building, Hermione rounded on Malfoy. "What's going on? Why did you drag us in here?"

"We've got to get out of here. It's not safe; they're going to find us." Though Hermione had asked the question, Malfoy spoke directly to Harry, almost pleading.

"What did you do?!" Ron asked angrily, his hand closing on his wand. Before anyone could react, the waitress walked up to the group.

"What can I get for you?" She asked casually, unaware of or unconcerned with the tension.

"Four coffees, please." Hermione said to her, attempting a friendly smile. The waitress didn't respond as she walked back to the counter. Ron, as soon as she was out of earshot, resumed his attack on Malfoy.

"Did you tell all our friends where we were? Thought you'd get back in with them if you gave them Harry?" Ron was practically snarling, his wand now drawn and visible, waiting for any excuse to start shooting hexes.

" _Ron!_ " Hermione whispered warningly, nodding her head towards the muggle waitress across the room. Ron took no notice.

Malfoy was unaffected, and spoke impatiently. "No, you idiot. Your precious Golden Boy did when he said the Dark Lord's name. And we need to leave  _now._ " His narrowed eyes flicked between Ron, Harry, and the door, and Harry felt his face reddening.

"What d'you mean, Malfoy?" Harry asked, but before Malfoy could answer the door opened and two men walked in. Harry saw the color drain from Malfoy's face as he locked eyes with one of the men, saw the man's eyes widen as he whispered something to his partner, saw his partner reach in his pocket and start drawing out something long, slender, and wooden.

"DUCK!" Harry shouted, grabbing Malfoy, who looked frozen, and dragging him down to the ground just as two curses fired from their opponents' wands. Hermione was the first back on her feet with her wand drawn, and she fired two retaliation jinxes back before ducking behind another table. Harry's hand closed around his own wand and he, too, started fighting back against the men.

The men were obviously skilled, combative wizards, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were struggling to hold their own. Curses were flying around the small cafe, and broken glass was blanketing the floor. The larger of the two men was dueling with Ron and Hermione, while the other had claimed Harry for himself.

Harry had just deflected an unknown curse when a twisted smile overcame the man's face. Before Harry could react he fired a spell of green light towards an object slightly to his right. He heard Malfoy yell "NO!" followed by a quiet gasp and a thud and, despite himself, he turned around. The waitress was on the ground, eyes open, unmoving. Before Harry could turn back around, he felt his wand leave his hand and clatter to the floor.

Harry looked back at the man, now broadly smiling, his eyes shining with delight. His wand raised again, now pointed directly at Harry. His tongue ran over his teeth, savoring the moment where he had Harry Potter cornered, defenseless. Harry's muscles tensed, ready to jump out of the way. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes remained fixed on his opponent.

The man was just opening his mouth when a familiar voice behind Harry spoke first.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

The man's face hardly had time to change to surprise before he too fell down to the floor. Unmoving.

The man's partner, distracted by his comrade's defeat, was his by an  _immobulus_  shot by Hermione and also fell hard to the ground.

For a few seconds, no one moved. Harry wasn't sure any of them was capable yet. Around them the cafe was in ruins, and dust was continuing to settle on the remains. Slowly, Harry stood up and faced Malfoy.

Malfoy stood in the corner, his eyes fixed on the man he'd just hit, horror etched on every feature of his face. He was shaking.

Harry took a tentative step towards him, glass crunching under his feet. At the sound, Malfoy's eyes locked onto Harry's. He was terrified. Harry took another step closer.

"Malfoy." He said cautiously.

"They're Death Eaters." Malfoy responded, his voice unsteady. "Dolohov and Rowle. Rowle's the one who I...Granger got Dolohov." He swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. He was still holding Harry's wand. Harry quickly glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who also looked shaken.

"Malfoy it's alright." Harry took one last step up to Malfoy and tentatively reached his hand towards the wand.

"He was going to kill you, and you didn't have a wand." Malfoy was rambling, his eyes shut. He reached his hands up to his hair and in doing so dropped Harry's wand. Harry caught it before it hit the floor. "I panicked. He didn't notice me pick up your wand. Harry, he was going to kill you. I didn't...I didn't know what to do. And then..." Malfoy was looking straight at Harry again, Harry could tell he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Harry, we need to leave. We can't stay here. I think I know where we can go." Hermione's small voice broke through Malfoy's panic, and he quickly tried to recover himself.

"Yeah," Harry said. "But we can't just leave everything like this. With the b-" He saw tears start welling in Hermione's eyes and cut himself short.  _Bodies._

Their fight had resulted in two casualties, and one Death Eater immobulised. Harry knew they needed to leave, go somewhere safe, but they couldn't leave yet. He looked around the room again, trying to formulate some sort of plan. Ron had put an arm around Hermione in comfort, both of them looking faint and sick. Harry was sure he looked the same. The Death Eaters both lay near the door, one unconscious, one... And the waitress behind the counter. They couldn't just leave her there. But how...

"We can't do anything for her." Malfoy said quietly, so quietly, Harry wasn't sure anyone else heard him. Harry took a deep breath.

"I know." He replied, just as quietly.

"Dolohov's memory needs to be erased." Malfoy said, more loudly this time.

Hermione nodded weakly, walking over to him, carefully keeping her eyes trained on his face and not Rowle's nearby body. " _Obliviate."_  She muttered softly. "Should we do anything else?"

"No." Harry responded. "No just leave him. Where were you thinking we could go?" Harry was ready to be away from this place, as they all were.

"Well, I was thinking, and Ron agrees, that we could go to...Sirius' house." Hermione glanced at Ron for support, an he nodded his agreement. She looked back at Harry, silently begging for him to agree.

Harry only had one reservation

"Snape knows about the house. It might not be safe." He said, knowing that they didn't have much choice.

"I've never heard anything about a house that belonged to Sirius Black." Malfoy said. "If that helps."

Harry nodded slowly.

Hermione spoke again. "Lupin told me that they put some protections on the house, against Snape. He shouldn't be able to tell anyone the name or address."

Harry nodded once more.

"Right, ok." He looked around one more time. "Malfoy, come here so I can tell you where we are going."

He looked puzzled.

"I don't want to say it too loudly, just come on." Harry urged. Malfoy slowly stepped towards him. When he was close enough, Harry leaned in towards his ear. He felt Malfoy stiffen at the proximity.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London." Harry leaned back. "Make sure you remember that."

Malfoy nodded, taking a step back.

"Wait." Hermione said. "Before we go, I..." She trailed off, walking towards the counter. Ron reached out for her, but didn't follow. As she approached the girl she whispered an incantation, and a single rose gently fell from her wand to her outstretched hand. She knelt down, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry." She whispered to the girl, and lay the rose on her chest. She walked back to Ron, eyes down, and grasped his hand tightly.

Ron looked up at Harry, eyes red. "Let's go."

Harry nodded, walking over to join his friends. He looked up to Malfoy, waiting for him to join them. Harry took Hermione's hand, reaching out his other, and when Malfoy grabbed it he turned on the spot, feeling his way into the darkness.

OooOooO

Draco's feet hit the ground hard, and as soon as he had his bearings he made sure Potter let go of his hand. They were standing in front of a dark house, both in appearance and in magic. Draco shivered at the traces of Dark magic he could feel coming from the building in front of him. He was hesitant to enter, but didn't want to let it show. So he followed the trio through the front door.

The entrance was musty, dusty. Potter, leading the way, put his arm out to stop his friends, and took a few tentative steps forward, lit wand held out in front of him. It happened suddenly, the second Potter's shoe touched the faded rug that lined the hallway. Draco felt a cold gust of wind, his tongue rolled back inside his mouth until he thought he might swallow it, his feet felt cemented to the floor. Before he could react, a dark figure rose from the other end of the carpet, seeming to be made of condensed, swirling dust, and started moving towards them. As it got closer, the light from Potter's wand illuminated the figure, and Draco felt faint at the sight of an almost delayed-looking Dumbledore approaching then, arm outstretched, eyes hollow, but somehow looking right at him.

" _Severus Snape_?" A rough voice echoed through the hall, and the figure drew even closer, almost close enough to touch. Draco's heart was beating wildly. He knew it was reaching out for him, because it was his fault. Draco hadn't killed Dumbledore, but he may as well have sent the curse his way. Snape was only protecting him, but it was Draco's fault. And this figure, this ghost, it  _knew._

In front of him, Granger screamed, and the figure instantly disappeared in a puff of dust. Draco's feet felt able to move, the temperature in the room rose. Potter quickly set to lighting the sconces lining the hallway, and turned back to his friends. Granger was shaking and Weasley had thrown a protective arm around her. Potter looked at them for a moment, obviously trying to hide his own reaction.

"It was a charm. In case Snape came snooping. Just a charm." Granger said, whether to herself or her friends, Draco couldn't tell.

He suddenly felt too weak to stand. It had been too much. His legs gave way and he fell down hard to his hands and knees. He gasped, taking a few breaths, eyes tightly shut, but he couldn't hold it back. He threw up, coughing and gasping, shaking.

"Malfoy?" A voice asked. It sounded muffled and far away. Draco tried to sit up, tried to bring his arm to wipe his mouth, but it seemed to be made of lead. He lifted his eyes, vision blurred. He glimpsed something bright green, concerned eyes behind round glasses, before everything went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised an update soon, and here it is! I thought maybe the cafe fight could use a little more ~drama~. Or murder. Both.
> 
> The trio (and Malfoy) are finally out of the Burrow, so things are going to start picking up. I should have another chapter out within the week!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a imperfect human, I realized that I completely forgot to include anything about Scrimgeour coming to the Burrow and giving the trio their respective items from Dumbledore's will. I've gone back (as of 8/12/17) and added a small (like, 3 sentences, don't bother going back) bit to chapter 10, but for those who have already read this far, just know that he DID come and they all have the things they should have. Now, on to the next chapter!

"I think he went into shock."

Voices floated through his head, slowly becoming clearer. He became aware of the floor underneath him, cold and hard. Feeling slowly seeped through his body; down his arms, hands, into his fingers. His knees hurt, one of his legs was bent awkwardly. His head was throbbing, his dry mouth had a foul taste, his stomach was churning.  _Maybe the cool floor isn't so bad._ He tried moving his fingers.

"Sshhh." The murmurs grew quiet. "I think he just moved." Another beat of silence. "Malfoy...er...Draco?"

It was Granger. He wanted to scowl at her for using his given name, but he couldn't make his facial muscles obey his wishes. He tried to open his eyes, but they may as well have been sewn shut.

"Maybe he hasn't quite come 'round yet."  _Weasley_. He sounded far too hopeful. Probably wished he had died.

Draco tried moving his fingers again, and felt them curl against the wood. He relaxed them, and started working on pushing his body up. He tried again to open his eyes.

He was almost there when his hand slipped and he crashed down to his elbow.

"Shit." He hissed, as he started falling onto bit back. Before he landed, warm hands landed under his shoulders, trying to support him. His eyes, finally, flew open, and he blinked trying to accustom them to his surroundings.

"Are you alright?" A voice asked softly. He looked up and saw Potter hovering above him, black hair falling carelessly over his green eyes, which were blazing with concern. He'd caught Draco just before his head cracked on the floor, and now had him resting somewhat awkwardly on his lap. Draco realized that Potter must have been very close to him earlier, for him to catch him before he hit the ground. Their eyes met. Draco felt his heart start thumping faster against his chest, the sound ringing in his ears. A slow heat started burning in his stomach, and was radiating through his body. It reached his face first, the blush spreading across his cheeks.

"I'm fine, Potter." He sat himself up quickly, suddenly alert enough to hold himself steady. Draco could tell Potter didn't believe him, and hopes he wasn't going to press the issue. Of course he wasn't bloody aright. He shifted his position so he was sitting cross legged with his elbows on his knees, and reached up to rub at his temples. With the shock of waking up on the floor and falling into Potter's lap wearing off, Draco was starting to remember all the details of the evening. Though his eyes were tightly shut, he could see the panic at the wedding, and he could hear people screaming as they ran past him. He could feel himself standing still, he could see the look of panic on his face. He saw the reception fade into the cafe, when Rowle and Dolohov walked in. His throat constricted as he remembered Rowle's expression when he recognized him.

It was like he was watching the fight from above, spells flying, glass shattering, the room gradually getting darker as the lights were hit one by one. The waitress, being a muggle and paralyzed by fear, didn't think to duck and hide behind the counter. Draco saw her hit the floor, the same way he'd seen so many other muggles fall to the floor. And he saw Potter's eyes, the pain and anger in his face when he turned, and the surprise and determination after he had been disarmed.

He saw himself walk toward the wand, lying so close to him on the floor, and pick it up. Draco looked back to Potter, crouched on the floor, muscles tensed, eyes fixed on Rowle. And he looked to Rowle, expression crazed with delight, wand raised and pointed straight at Potter's chest. He saw the comprehension dawn on his face as he realized what Rowle had planned. He saw himself raise Potter's wand, heard himself say the curse.

His eyes snapped open, he was breathing too quickly.

He hadn't even expected the curse to work. Not really. He'd never used Potter's wand before; he'd never used the curse before. He knew what performing a successful unforgiveable meant.

He'd meant it.

He looked up to Potter again, and Potter was looking back at him with confusion and concern. Potter opened his mouth to speak, but Granger started first.

"Malfoy...erm...well we were wondering. Back at the cafe, how did you know we were in danger?" She asked timidly. Draco was surprised by her tone. As much as he hated to admit it, and as much as he hated her, her sharp wit and confidence were something he almost respected.

"You said Harry did something." Weasley added. "Said You-Know-Who's name."

Draco hesitated, simply because he didn't want to look like he was affirming anything that came from Weasley's mouth, but ultimately nodded.

"Ok, but what do you mean by that?" Potter spoke up. "Why would saying Vol-"

"NO!" Draco shouted, lunging at Harry. His hands landed on his shoulders, and he pushed him roughly into the wall of the hallway. Granger gasped. "You bloody idiot! You can't say that name!"

"Ok. But why?" Potter asked calmly, not resisting Draco in the slightest. Draco stared hard into his eyes and saw the challenge that was there. He released Potter, and took a step back.

"Because his name is taboo. If you say it they can find you. Anywhere."

Silence answered his statement, but he could feel the tension building in the narrow hallway. He braced himself to get hexed.

"Well why the fuck wouldn't you tell us that earlier?!" Weasley shouted, stepping up to him. Draco was fairly tall, but Weasley still had a few inches on him. Draco refused to cower. "Why would you keep that all to yourself? Hoping we'd get caught?"

Draco took a moment to compose his answer carefully before responding.

"It didn't go in effect until today. It wasn't going to start until they had the Ministry-"

"You still could have told someone! Lupin, Kingsley? We could have told others, I could have told my family!" Weasley had raised his wand, and had it leveled between Draco's eyes. No one was stopping him.

"Ron, they don't use his name." Potter said. Weasley's wand didn't budge.

"I did tell Lupin. During a meeting." Draco responded, looking straight into Weasley's eyes. He saw him falter, his wand lowered slightly. It surprised Draco that the werewolf hadn't mentioned the taboo to Potter and his band of misfits, but he didn't have time to dwell on that now.

"You're lying. He would have told us. If you'd told him he would have told us!" Weasley returned to shouting, but Draco could tell his confidence was waning.

"If you're bloody werewolf didn't see fit to share information with you, that isn't my problem." Draco countered. He wished he had a wand he could raise to Weasley's face. Unlike Weasley, he wouldn't hesitate to actually use it. His hands, balled into fists, shook.

"Harry, you don't believe him do you?" Weasley's eyes flicked towards Draco's left. He turned, and saw Harry's eyes dance between his own and his friend's. Before he could respond, Draco turned back to Weasley with renewed anger. This didn't concern Potter.

"What, can't fight your own battles? I don't even have a wand, and you need your Golden Boy to fight them for you?" He sneered, knowing he was riling Weasley up. He almost hoped he would try to hex him.

He heard Potter moving behind him, and he walked up to Weasley preventing his response.

"Ron, drop it, ok? For tonight. We've been through enough, and we need to get some sleep." Potter gently placed his hand on Weasley's shoulder, and Weasley grudgingly nodded, eyes never leaving Draco's. Draco could tell this conversation wasn't over, probably far from it, but he was grateful for Potter's intervention.

Weasley reaches for Granger's hand, and Potter whispered something Draco wasn't meant to hear. Draco leaned back against the wall and put his hands in his pockets. Potter glanced back over his shoulder at Draco before whispering something else to his friends. They left the hallway to ascend the stairs, but not before Weasley shot one last venom filled look at Draco. He didn't have the energy to reciprocate, and simply stared at the ceiling.

"I need to talk to Ron and Hermione." Potter said. Draco nodded, still looking upward. "Malfoy, I..." Draco looked over to him. Potter was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his body awkwardly placed like he wasn't sure what he was doing, with one foot on the stairs and his torso and head both turned towards Draco. His hands were clasped in front of him, and Draco noticed that he was starting to pick at his nails. Potter quickly shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll be back down soon. Don't go anywhere, it's not safe."

Draco had a feeling that wasn't what Potter had wanted to say. He cocked an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. As if he had the energy to leave. As if he had anywhere to go. "Sure, Potter."

As soon as the sound of Potter's footsteps trailed off, Draco slid down the wall, put his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them. He bent his forehead to his knees and let out a shaky breath.

_Murderer._

_You're a murderer._

He was a Death Eater.

_He was a person. You killed him._

He had just killed that girl.

_Murderer._

He was going to kill Potter.

_You couldn't save your parents._

She was innocent. He wasn't.

_You could have saved your parents._

I couldn't.

_But you can save Potter._

_Why Potter?_

I don't know...

_Why Potter?_

I don't know!

_Why Potter?_

"I DON'T KNOW!" Draco was surprised by his own voice. He looked up, but he was still alone. He let his head fall back against the wall, unaware of the few tears that slid down his cheeks.

_Liar._

_Murderer._

OooOooO

Harry closed the door behind him and turned towards his friends. He looked them over, both battle-worn and exhausted beyond belief. Harry knew he looked the same. Hermione walked forward and embraced him in a way that he hadn't realized he needed. He held her back, looking at Ron over her shoulder who have him a solemn nod. She let go slowly, and stepped back. "He saved your life, Draco."

"I know." Harry said. And it was true. He had been prepared to lunge out of the way, but in all likelihood he was going to get hit, and that would have been it. The end.

"But he killed someone." Ron added. Harry looked over to him. Ron no longer looked angry, just weary. Harry knew his anger towards Malfoy wasn't unjustified, and Harry himself had reservations about believing his story about telling Lupin. It just didn't make sense that Lupin would keep something that crucial from them.

"I know." Said Harry, yet again. The conversation lulled. "But he still fought for us. When he picked up my wand he could have hexed me, or joined the fight against you two. But he didn't. Surely that...it must mean something."

His friends stared back at him. "Of course it means something, Harry. But he still...he still killed someone. We shouldn't forget what he can do." Hermione spoke gently, but her voice was tired. Harry knew now wasn't the time to start this conversation. He wanted to trust Malfoy, and he believed he could, but he couldn't betray his the trust of his best friends by doing anything rash. He wold convince them. Hermione glanced significantly at Ron, who turned and walked towards the other side of the room. She walked up to Harry again. "I think it would be better if Ron and Malfoy don't have to share a room. But I don't think we should leave him alone in the house for too long."

"No I get it. I'll stay with him." Harry reached for Hermione's arm in a reassuring way, knowing she was right. "Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning. Ron, you too."

"Night, Harry."

"Night, mate."

Harry left the room, closing the door behind him. He descended the stairs to find Malfoy sitting against the wall, head back, looking almost peaceful. As he neared, Malfoy didn't move, and Harry noticed the tear stains on his cheeks, and the slight tremor in his hands. He went next to Malfoy and slid down the wall, bringing his knees up to mirror Malfoy's positioning. He brought his hands together.

"If you start picking at your nails against I'm liable to punch you." Malfoy said. Harry jumped slightly, surprised, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

"Ron and Hermione have a room upstairs. There are plenty though, so we can go take another."

Malfoy opened his eyes and looked over to Harry. With his face turned, their noses were mere centimeters from each other. Neither moved. "We...I don't think you should be in the house alone. You...it can be dangerous." Harry tried to explain, feeling his face burn as he stumbled through his words.

"Do you hear me protesting?" Malfoy said with a hint of his old drawl. Harry blinked at him, then stood up.

"Right then, follow me." Harry led them up two flights of stairs, to the room he had shared with Ron in previous visits to the old house. Unlike the room Hermione had chosen for her and Ron, Harry knew for certain this room had two beds.

Once they were both in the room, Harry lit a lamp and cast a few quick scourgifys to make the room for habitable. He glanced at Malfoy, standing by a wall looking at the ceiling again, and down at himself before casting the charm on the both of them as well. Malfoy looked at him, surprised, and Harry realized he hadn't asked permission before casting on him.

"Sorry, I just...I thought you'd be more comfortable. I shouldn't have done that. I forgot that you get uncomfortable when other people cast charms on you." Harry stopped when he saw Malfoy's eyes widen then slowly narrow. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks. "I, um, I mean, I've just noticed that-"

Malfoy interrupted him. "No. No, it's fine. Don't worry yourself." He started to turn towards his bed, but Harry had something more he wanted to say.

"Malfoy." Harry started. Malfoy turned back towards him, eyes wary. "Erm. I just...well..." Harry stammered, trying to make the words come out. Malfoy's expression didn't change, and he waited patiently for Harry to continue. Harry took a deep breath.

"Thank you."

Malfoy stared at him a second more, his expression becoming pained. His body twitched as if he were about to move forward towards Harry, but he stilled. Still, his eyes burned with words he wasn't sharing. Finally, he gave one short nod.

"Goodnight, Potter." And he turned towards his bed. Harry watched him for a moment longer before doing the same, and turning out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, SOOO, I know this is a few days later than I said. I really wanted to make this chapter longer because I want to start releasing longer chapters, but I realized that I've gotten to a point where my outline is severely lacking in details and I need to do a little research. As I'm sure you can tell, I am trying to generally stick to the real DH events, and I'm changing what I think needs changing to accommodate for Draco's presence. But that means that I don't want to mess up the sequence of events and have it wreck things later on. So, all that being said, the chapters following this ARE going to be longer, which may be a little more time between chapters (maybe not, idk), and I need to fill in some details on my outline.
> 
> Now then, I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 13! Things are going to start picking up from here, time is probably going to start moving more quickly. As always, thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing, I love getting all your feedback! I'll have more out for you soon!


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